


The Crimson Sorcerer

by TwistedFilms



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Begins post Chamber of Secrets, Blood Magic, Chaotic Neutral Harry, F/M, Greater Good Dumbledore, Rituals, Romance, Slow Burn, Smart Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 116,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27354436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedFilms/pseuds/TwistedFilms
Summary: Harry Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived, but not in the way Dumbledore wanted. Rejected and abused by his aunt and uncle, Harry grows up to become a wildly different man than anyone could have predicted. A man set on reclaiming control over his own life, come hell or high water. Rated M for a reason.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 57
Kudos: 124





	1. Act 1: The End of the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT INFORMATION - PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU START ON THE STORY
> 
> Chaotic Neutral: Chaotic neutral characters follow their whims. They are individualists first and last. They value their own liberty but do not strive to protect the freedom of others. They avoid authority, resent restrictions, and challenge traditions. Chaotic neutral characters don't intentionally disrupt organizations as part of a campaign of anarchy. To do so, they would have to be motivated either by good (a desire to help people) or by evil (a desire to hurt people).
> 
> WARNING: This story is a slow burn. It takes a while for things to happen, and unlike some other fics where Harry resolves all of his problems in one year or less (see "Methods of Rationality"), the main "plot" in this story will gradually reveal itself over time. Now I'm not saying those other fics I mentioned are bad, because they certainly aren't, I'm just saying I'm not going to be speedrunning the Harry VS Voldemort conflict.
> 
> Now then: our story begins after the events of Chamber of Secrets. Harry never befriended Ron, was placed in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor and relies on Hermione as his only friend. The story so far has played out mostly as it did in the canon version, only that Ron wasn't there. For now, I will mostly ignore the plot holes that creates, as his first two years really aren't all that important to my version of the story. So please just go with it for now.
> 
> Pairings as of this moment consist of Harry/Hermione and Neville/Luna Lovegood. However, this can fluctuate in the future, depending on certain factors (do not worry though, this will not turn into a harem or multi-fic where Harry has 5 girlfriends).
> 
> Now, I have been told that the first one or two chapters of this story may come across as slightly "gung-ho", and may give the impression that this is a crackfic. And while it definitely contains ELEMENTS of that, this is NOT a crackfic story. So please, do try to work your way past the second or third chapter before deciding if you want to continue reading or not.
> 
> In addition, if you ever feel like the pace is slowing down at certain points in the story, please don't be alarmed, as this is intentional. Most of what will happen in this fanfic has been planned out ahead of time, so certain segments may feel like they are dragging on when, in reality, they are just setting up events that are going to happen later.
> 
> And last but not least, Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**DADA Class**

Harry Potter wasn't particularly fond of the British Wizarding Community. He disliked the utterly corrupt government masquerading as a functional governing body. He disliked the downright defective economy that lacked any sort of logical sense and allowed goblins to completely rip off any wizard with their monopoly on wizarding banking services. But most of all, he disliked the members that the community consisted of: the wizards themselves.

In Harry's more-than-a-little biased opinion, every wizard he had encountered seemed to suffer from a harsh case of Tunnel Vision. In other words, their mind seemed incapable of critical thinking, or thinking "outside of the box", if you would. To provide an example, most wizards went about their daily lives without a care in the world, rarely questioning the more than questionable decisions being made by the Ministry of Magic. From a logical standpoint, every man or woman with at least five braincells should be able to see that Cornelius Fudge was an absolute wanker and a push-over with zero understanding of how politics actually worked outside of popularity votes. This, however, seemed not to be the case, as the man kept getting reelected every time the position for Minister of Magic came up. No wonder nefarious little shits such as Lucius Malfoy had such an easy time manipulating the political landscape to adhere to his bidding, with Fudge acting pretty much as consequential evidence that human evolution could actually go backwards.

Prospects were not looking much better when it came to the economical side of things either. Seeing as Gringotts was the only bank dedicated to storing wizard currency in Britain, the goblins who managed it possessed a tremendous amount of power over the wizarding economy. This was not helped by the fact that the currency the goblins had put in place for wizards to use was nothing short of mind-numbingly retarded, with one Galleon equaling 17 Sickles or 493 Knuts.

That was not to say there were no loopholes in the goblins' system though, because there obviously were. As a matter of fact, one of the first things Harry had done upon learning about the Potter Family Vault's existence was to research possible ways of circumventing the Regulations placed on minors when it came to withdrawals of currency. You see, according to wizarding law, any minor under the legal age of 18 was not allowed to withdraw more than 1,000 Galleons every month from their family's vault. This meant that Harry, despite being the only surviving member of the Potter family, had very restricted access to his family's funds.

He had, however, managed to find a work-around to this of sorts by opening up a secondary bank account to which he would deposit the maximum amount of Galleons allowed to be withdrawn every month like clockwork. Over time, the monthly 1,000-Galleon-deposits would accumulate into a bigger pool of money in his secondary account, of which he had total control of and could do with as he pleased. A rather simple plan indeed, but definitely functional due to the goblins stupidity of not implementing another law simply denying minors the possibility of opening up their own bank accounts.

"Mr. Potter, your attention please," his teacher Remus Lupin coughed, dragging him out of his daydream. Harry had a tendency of zoning out in classes, spending his time daydreaming about pretty much anything instead of paying attention.

"Sorry," he muttered, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. Seeing as he had been plagued by a constant stream of nightmares ever since his First Year at Hogwarts, Harry struggled to get even a single night of good sleep, and often resorted to sleeping in class as a way of keeping himself energized, much to the dismay of the teachers. Harry wasn't overly bothered by this though, as he had long since surpassed the curriculum and was way ahead of the rest of his class.

When Harry was first introduced to magic, he had developed somewhat of an unhealthy obsession with it. Look at it as the result of Harry not being in a particularly happy place when he got the Hogwarts letter. To him, magic had been so much more than the ability to perform kickass spells and incantations. It had been an escape, a ticket out of his previous life with the Dursleys, a life which had left him scarred on a psychological level. He still hadn't quite gotten over his paranoia of belt buckles for example, as that had been Vernon's primary form of punishment whenever he decided Harry needed to be disciplined.

So when he got the opportunity to come to Hogwarts, he'd been ecstatic to say the least. Finally, a world that would accept him for who he was, without people like Vernon and Dudley in it. He had spent most of his First and Second Year in the library with Hermione, reading pretty much everything he could get his hands on. Even back in his old life, when he didn't know magic existed, he had loved to read. Harry liked to think it had helped give him an advantage over his fellow piers. It certainly seemed to have given Hermione an edge, at least.

It was during one of these reading sessions in the library that he had learned about the existence of prophecies, and after realizing that he was a Parselmouth during his Second Year, he had quickly made the connection between him and Voldemort. It was likely they were bound by some sort of prophecy, it was the only reasonable explanation as to why they kept clashing with each other and why the Dark Wizard seemed so intent on taking his life. When he went to Dumbledore to present his findings, the old man had been surprised to say the least, no doubt scared by how quickly Harry had learned of the prophecy. He had chosen to tell him most of it right then and there, despite it not being in his original plan. He had, however, chosen not to tell him about the fact that he would have to eventually die at the hands of Voldemort for the prophecy to come full circle, so Harry remained ignorant of that to this very day.

Sadly, due to the Dursleys hatred and poor (borderline illegal) treatment of him, Harry had developed something of a cynical world view, often thinking the worst of people before he had even gotten to know them. This had, however, proved useful to him when dealing with Wizards, because no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't quite shake the feeling that everyone was out to dupe him. Which was kind of true, at least to some extent. He was The Boy Who Lived after all, so he supposed it would be unnatural for people NOT to take advantage of him.

The goblins had tried to scam him of his money, Dumbledore, who he had originally thought to be on his side, had apparently been trying to rope him in to this so-called prophecy he quite frankly wanted nothing to do with, and Draco Malfoy had offered him false friendship under the pretense of improving his own standing. Luckily, he had been able to see through that last one, and subsequently told Draco to fuck off at the start of his First Year.

There was no doubt that Harry had been through quite a lot during his two years at Hogwarts. He'd fought his own Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher over the Philosophers Stone in his First Year, battled a monstrous Basilisk living underneath the girls' bathroom in his Second, and moved out from the Dursleys house at the start of his Third (and nearly died due to what could only be described as the most suicidal bus ride he had ever had the pleasure of participating in).

If you really took a moment to think about it, Harry was about as far from normal as you could possibly get. This didn't seem to bother his fellow students though, who all just seemed to expect Harry to just keep pulling miracles out of his arse like some kind of twisted slot machine. Take a spin at the Harry Potter wheel and see what kind of death-defying stunt the young wizard will pull today!

He was, to be quite frank, really tired of it all. He was tired of being everyone else's slave, doing whatever they asked or commanded him to. Dumbledore in particular had a nasty tendency of trying to manipulate him to do his bidding. That's part of the reason why Harry had decided to study Occlumency already in his Second Year. He had learned about the Mind Arts from the books in the library, and had quickly surmised that Dumbledore was probably using surface-level Legilimency on the people he was talking to in order to get a sneak peek at their thoughts. Call it a sixth sense, but that man was a little too good at controlling a conversation.

And that was not to mention the whole "Voldemort" prophecy. He had already fought the Dark Fuck in some way or another twice in his life, and he could wholeheartedly say he wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of facing him again. Voldemort just didn't seem to want to die, no matter how hard they tried. Heck, even Dumbledore had been fighting the guy for years already, and they had only succeeded last time because Harry's mom sacrificed herself to save him.

The familiar sting that always came at the thought of his mother returned once again. Lily Potter had been a good woman, and a loving mom from what little he could remember of her. She hadn't deserved to die the way she did, begging for mercy at Lord Voldemort's feet. Harry felt a twinge of grim satisfaction at the thought of Voldemort realizing that he had made a grave mistake by killing Lily, just as his body exploded from the recoil of his own spell.

"Harry, what did I just say… I know you don't find this particularly enjoyable, but you have to pay attention," Remus sighed, shaking his head at the child of his former friends. When was the boy ever going to learn?

"I'm sorry Professor, I just… Well, I have a lot on my mind," Harry replied, pushing himself up so he sat with his back straight.

"I know my boy, but that doesn't excuse poor behavior during class. I'll let you off this once, but please pay attention from now on, okay?" Remus nodded as he turned around to face the blackboard behind him yet again. It was one of the first DADA classes of the year, and Harry was already nodding off. That didn't bode well for the rest of the year.

The professor was, of course, none other than Remus Lupin. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. They seemed to get a new one each year, with every teacher that had ever taught the class being forced to step back due to weird circumstances that just seemed to come out of nowhere. Rumor had it the position was cursed, and could never have a permanent teacher. So far, that rumor seemed to be true, with Lupin being the third DADA teacher Harry had had, and he had only been here for three years.

Remus had proved to be more interesting than the others though. True, Quirrell had tried to kill him and technically been the host for a piece of Lord Voldemort's soul, but Remus had saved him on the Hogwarts Express at the start of the year, when the train had come under attack by several Dementors. One of them had apparently sensed something about Harry that had made it attack him, with Harry being completely helpless as none of his spells worked on the wretched abomination. He hadn't known about the Expecto Patronum spell back then, but had since researched it thoroughly and tried to cast it multiple times on his own. However, he just couldn't quite seem to muster up a positive enough memory for the spell to work. Even the one with Lily sacrificing herself for him didn't seem to cut it for some reason. And he couldn't think of any other explanation as to why he was unable to cast it, as Hermione seemed to be able to do it quite easily. Then again, Hermione was generally amazing at everything magic, so maybe that wasn't such a smart way to measure his own strength, by comparing it to hers.

Harry couldn't really say he had a lot of friends. His cynical view towards practically everyone and everything had a tendency of driving away any interested parties, but Hermione was different. She had seen his negative attitude as a challenge, and looked at him more as a rival than anything else. They had eventually established a friendship of sorts, based on the competition they had between each other. It had taken Harry weeks to lower his pride to the point where he would sit next to her in the library, but had since not chosen to sit by himself once. It was one of the few decisions he did not regret making. Hermione Granger was a genuinely interesting person, one that he felt comfortable enough with to talk to without there being any tension or hostility. That was rare for Harry, seeing as just about everyone couldn't seem to stop pissing him off. There was something about their… simple, optimistic look at life that just annoyed him to no end, that hopeless, childish belief that "everything would be alright", because he knew damn well it wouldn't be. He had nearly died multiple times already during his relatively short life, which had taught him that walking around with that sort of attitude could be dangerous.

Hermione, on the other hand, had a surprisingly neutral mindset when it came to these things. Despite her tendency to overthink, she was reliable and intelligent. It was the best Harry could hope for in a friend, at least.

If Harry somehow managed to survive long enough to actually graduate from Hogwarts, he did have a couple of plans for the future. One of his most prominent ones was to find a way to reverse engineer the Elixir of Life to provide him with true immortality instead of just an expanded lifespan. But that would require a Philosopher's Stone, and as far as he knew, Nicolas Flamel was the only one who had been capable of making one of those. And he was believed to be long dead at this point.

Some people might ask the question of what one would do with immortal life. Harry thought that those people were stupid. He for one would delve deeper into the nature of magic, unlock every secret known to wizarding kind and weave new and complex spells that only he could use. He would be the mightiest wizard known to man, undefeated by sickness nor death.

One could perhaps say that he was blinded by delusions of grandeur. But he chose to look at it as more of a pragmatic goal, something to work towards as he gained more knowledge about the mystical and very weird world of magic.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Library**

"Hey, Hermione, take a look at this," Harry said as he leaned over towards his female friend so she could get a better look at the book he was holding.

"Hmmmmm…" she mumbled as she worked her way through the wall of text Harry had highlighted. "You are reading about the Draconifors Spell, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Huh… I mean, it's an interesting spell to be sure, but what are you going to do with it? I can't see how turning objects into small dragons could have any sort of practical use…" she perplexed, fixing him with a quizzical look.

"Ahh, but can't you see how elementary this is, my dear Doctor Watson," Harry grinned, more than a little satisfied with his own wordplay and reference. Hermione on the other hand, was not, and simply rolled her eyes as the black-haired boy launched into yet another explanation.

"I intend to use the dragons as a means of transport, you see."

The flat stare she sent him in response told him that she was not exactly impressed.

"You are going to use the dragons to fly you up to Ravenclaw Tower because you are too lazy to use the stairs, aren't you?"

"Precisely."

Letting out a sigh, Hermione leaned back and used her hands to gently massage her temples.

"You never cease to impress, Harry," she muttered with clear irony.

"I know; I am an underappreciated genius. Blame the administration for not installing some damn escalators around here," he responded matter-of-factly, closing his book on Transfiguration before reaching over towards the next one in his stack. He still had a plethora of subjects to get through before supper, including but not limited to the study of Grindylows, the inner workings of the Expecto Patronum and a deep-dive into the theory behind Animagi. The last one was especially interesting.

Ever since he had learned about Animagus forms, Harry had wanted to take a closer look at the magic behind it. Hermione had long since advised him to give up on this particular desire, as learning how to become an Animagus required vast amounts of patience and knowledge about your inner animal, but Harry still felt like the positives outweighed the negatives. However, after taking a surface-level look at the subject, he had quickly surmised that learning how to perform the transformation would be a strenuous process involving a ritual that would take months of preparation to get right, which was quite frankly something he didn't have the time to do right now.

"Well, well, well, what have we here? Potter and his mudblood friend, enjoying each other's company I see."

Harry didn't have any trouble recognizing that voice. Draco Malfoy had apparently decided to pay a visit to the library, no doubt just to take yet another futile shot at mocking him and Hermione, as that seemed to be his favorite pastime activity.

"What do you want, Malfag?" Harry shot back, still pretending to be reading in his book as if Malfoy wasn't even worthy of the slightest bit of his attention. An indignant scoff told him that Draco didn't appreciate his (not so very) subtle insult.

"I was just going to peruse over some books at the library, but I think I might have come to the wrong place, seeing as there is nothing but trash here."

"Clever as always Draco. Tell me, does your bigoted father enjoy your incredible sense of humor as much as I do?"

A dark shadow cast itself over Malfoy's face at the mention of his father.

"I won't allow you to speak like that, Potter," he warned.

"Or what, Malfoy? You'll punish me? You know damn well that I am stronger than you, and from where I'm standing, you're the one who came in here looking for trouble." Pointing out the power difference between the two did little to satiate Malfoy's anger, and Harry could see the boy growing more and more infuriated by the second.

"You're really itching for a fight today, aren't you Potter?" he sneered, pulling up his sleeves in a ridiculous attempt at intimidation. Harry wasn't bothered by it in the slightest though. He had already decided that he wouldn't be fighting Draco, seeing as it was an utter waste of time and would most likely result in little else but get him into trouble with the Professors.

"I am not going to fight you Draco, so just go back to circlejerking with those two numbskulls and leave us alone," Harry replied, his voice perfectly calm. By "those two", he was obviously referring to Draco's designated bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle, who always followed him around no matter where he went. "Actually, I'm curious; do they follow you to the toilet whenever you need to take a shit too?"

"Very funny Potter. Crabbe and Goyle have simply learned their place. They were born to serve under the Malfoy family, and one day, you'll serve us too," Draco retorted, managing to sound even more arrogant than before.

"Not gonna happen Malfoy. There's not a snowball's chance in hell I would ever serve someone as self-obsessed as you, much less the entire Malfoy family. But I'm tired of having this pointless discussion with you, so if you could just do me a favor and fuck off that'd be great." At this point, Harry had already gotten up from his seat and walked past Draco and his entourage, heading for the door leading out towards the corridor. He had been planning on going to the Great Hall to eat supper anyway, and would gladly do so now that he knew Draco would not be there.

"What, running away Potter? Too afraid to fight me? I bet your parents wish they could've done the same thing when they had to face the Dark Lord."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his back still turned towards Draco.

"… What did you just say?"

An evil grin flashed across Draco's face as he saw Harry's reaction. He knew he had struck a nerve. What he didn't know, however, was when to stop.

"It hurts, doesn't it? Knowing how your parents begged for mercy, how your mother screamed as she watched your father fall to Lord Voldemort. How she must have trembled at the thought of her only son being taken from her. Well I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Potter," he continued as he slowly made his way towards Harry, the smirk on his face growing wider with every step.

"They deserved to die."

"…"

A wave of pure, unadulterated anger suddenly flooded the library, showering everyone in the room with fear the likes of which they had never experienced before. The temperature seemed to drop at an unnatural pace, hitting sub-zero in a matter of seconds.

 _What… is this?_ Hermione thought to herself as she watched in petrified silence. _This isn't… that isn't Harry, it doesn't feel like Harry, it's not Harry._ In fact, the person that was standing in front of her did not feel much like a person at all. It felt more like a lifeless husk, its singular purpose to act like a host for the endless abyss and void that seemed to permeate the room, erasing any memory of happy thoughts.

Harry Potter was a man of great pain, and in this very moment, he was forcing said pain on everyone else in the library.

"What are you doing, Potter?!" Draco squealed, visibly flinching as the waves of malice rolled over him.

"You will never…"

Fear swelled in Draco's eyes as Harry ever so slowly turned around to face him.

"Talk about my parents…"

He was clamoring up against the bookshelf behind him now, desperately looking for an opening past Harry. But Harry was not going to give him one.

"That way…"

He was close now, so close that he could practically smell the anxiety and dread Draco was feeling. For a split second, it felt good. It felt good to know that he held such power over the Malfoy boy, the power to make him feel fear unlike any other. After this, the boy would never attempt to agitate him again, because he would know the consequences.

"Ever again!"

The end of the sentence also marked the end of Harry's patience, as he jerked his hand forward in a push-like motion. The hand never even touched Draco, but the boy felt the pressure all the same, the pressure of Harry's magic being ruthlessly forced upon him, shoving his frail body against the bookshelf with such force it immediately broke his hip.

As the young boy fell to the floor, he let out a bloodcurdling scream of pain that echoed out into the hallway and far into the castle, no doubt attracting the attention of every Prefect and Professor at Hogwarts.

This seemed to wake Harry up from his trance-like state, which immediately put an end to the waves of anger and caused the temperature to steadily rise back up to normal. Whilst the others present were more than a little relieved, Harry was already starting to feel the repercussions of his anger-induced use of magic. His mind went fuzzy, his body throbbing from the overexertion that he had just put it through. Forcing magic to obey ones wishes without the use of a shortcut such as a wand could be an incredibly taxing affair, especially if it involved manipulating reality in the way Harry had just done. He had wanted Draco to get hurt, and forced this wish upon reality itself (or whatever it was that controlled the laws of physics).

Hermione must have noticed the paleness of his skin, because she immediately rushed over to his side to support him.

"Thank you," he gasped, leaning himself against her.

"Harry, what was that?!" Hermione hissed back, a mix of emotions swirling through her. Harry could not really blame her for that though. She had just witnessed her friend turn into the epicenter for a whirlpool of anger after all.

"I… we'll talk about it later, ok?" he whispered back, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. This one was going to be hard to explain. I mean, how did you really explain that you thought you had an Obscurus growing inside of you?

* * *

Harry wasn't quite sure whether or not his Obscurus theory was actually correct. After coming across the subject during a rather late-night reading session in the library, he had been almost convinced that what he had just stumbled upon was the explanation for his apparent uncontrollable anger. However, after thinking about it for more than 5 minutes, he suddenly wasn't so sure.

An Obscurus could be explained as the manifestation of the repressed energy of a magical child, which would certainly fit the bill for Harry. He had, after all, been told to suppress his magic every day whilst living with the Dursleys, and beaten when he failed to do so. That would be the perfect environment for an Obscurus to take hold and grow, especially considering the total seclusion Harry had been subjected to.

On the other hand, on every recorded instance of an Obscurial going wild, the host of the Obscurus lost any semblance of control, and was at the complete mercy of his inner demons. Now, whenever Harry got so angry that he started triggering "self-imposed accidental magic", he never truly lost control. He could always direct the unstable force towards something, whether that was a person or an object. An Obscurial could not do this; they usually just ended up lashing out at anything in the nearby vicinity.

Many a night had been spent with Harry pondering this exact issue, trying to think of an answer as to why he seemed to be able to do something that most Obscurial could not. Due to this, he had ultimately decided to look for other possible causes of his "accidental magical outbursts" as well, and noted down the Obscurus theory as speculation and possible explanation for a later date.

* * *

**Prof. McGonagall's Office**

"Harry Potter… If I had to pick one person I would not expect to see in this office, I would pick you," Professor McGonagall said, shaking her head with clear disappointment. "You know why you have been called here, I presume?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry answered, deciding not to delay the inevitable. Everyone and their grandmother had seen him attack Draco in the library, so he really didn't see a point in lying about it now.

"Then I must tell you that I am extremely curious as to why you saw it fit to attack a fellow student like that," McGonagall remarked, fixing him with an iron stare. "What could possibly have been going through your head for you to think that such an act would be acceptable?"

"Not to nag or anything Professor, but it wasn't like I just randomly attacked Malfoy out of nowhere. Draco came to the library for the sole purpose of provoking me, which, as made obvious by the fact that I am sitting here right now, he succeeded in. It just didn't end so well for him this time," Harry refuted, his face an expressionless mask.

"Didn't end so well for him? Harry, you broke the poor boy's hip, for Merlin's sake!"

"I didn't mean to. I overestimated his ability to handle my magic, and put a little more power into the push than strictly necessary, resulting in… well, a broken hip." Harry knew he was technically lying when he said that. He had wanted Draco to get hurt, and would quite frankly have been a little disappointed if the boy walked away with nothing more than a few, insignificant bruises.

"Harry…" McGonagall sighed, rubbing her tired eyes with one hand. "You have to understand that these things have consequences. You can't just go around hurting people that provoke you, even if you believe they deserve it. There is a reason rules exist."

"I know, Professor, and I promise that I'll try my best to uphold them from now on." Plus, Draco had already gotten what was coming to him, so Harry had a feeling he wouldn't be bothered by him for a while.

"I can ask for no more, but sadly I am expected to enforce the school rules, and therefore have to issue some kind of punishment, especially considering the nature of the violation," the Professor frowned, clearly not happy with the prospect of having to punish someone she was convinced regretted his actions. Harry obviously didn't, but the Professor did not need to know that.

"As such, I am giving you mandatory detention for the rest of the week."

A small groan escaped Harry's lips as he heard his punishment. Detention was by far the cruelest thing they could have done to him, simply because it was mind-numbingly boring, and Harry hated being bored. He had the discipline not to complain about it out loud of course, but he made sure his dissatisfaction was visible in his facial expressions.

"Then I believe we are done here, right?" he asked, shooting a quick look towards the door.

"Yes, we are. You may leave, Mr. Potter."

As Harry got up from his seat and was about to leave the relatively small office, McGonagall coughed lightly to get his attention again.

"In fact, before you go, answer me this…"

"Yes, Professor?"

"According to what I've heard, you never physically touched Draco… and judging by your wand records, you have not used it to cast a single spell since Charms class earlier this day… but the young Malfoy was still pushed into the bookshelf with such power that it had to be the result of magic…"

Harry already knew where this line of questioning was going, and he didn't like it. He had no time to indulge the Professors' wishes to know about his accidental magic, and on top of this, it would be rather hard to explain just HOW he was able to do it in the first place.

"Let's just say that it was the result of multiple years of pent-up emotions and a dash of anger issues, Professor."

* * *

**Malfoy Manor**

Lucius Malfoy sat in silence as he watched the piece of parchment he had just read slowly catch fire and burn to ashes. Draco's weekly letters were usually filled with nothing but mundane information that he quite frankly had no interest in hearing about, but this time, something interesting had actually happened. Harry Potter had apparently attacked his son in the library. The whole situation was… well, most troublesome. The Potter boy had turned out to be more proficient in wielding the magical arts than Lucius had initially expected, something that would no doubt trouble the Dark Lord, should he ever decide to return.

You see, ever since that night in Godric's Hollow, Lucius hadn't felt truly at peace. He had been relieved, of course, after hearing about Lord Voldemort's demise, but not at peace. There was something about the way he died that made him worry. The Dark Lord had often bragged about his seemingly immortal soul to his followers, so that he would go ahead and die at the hands of a toddler seemed a little too good to be true.

When Lucius had decided to take on the mask and don the robes, he had not been aware of just how cruel his new master could be. He would kill mercilessly and torture those who dared disobey him. Lucius himself had in fact been on the receiving end of said torture multiple times, despite being a sworn Death Eater, and he still remembered the overwhelming pain he had suffered under the Dark Lord's Cruciatus.

Despite the thought of Voldemort returning to power never failing to send a shiver down his spine, he couldn't write it off as an impossibility, simply because of the immense power the wizard had wielded. If his master had somehow found a way to make himself truly invincible… well, then they would all have to be prepared for his return.

The young Harry Potter therefore represented a threat to all of them, and Lucius would have liked nothing more than to get rid of him as fast as possible. This, however, had proved to be a rather difficult task, seeing as the boy was under the protection of Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. And no wizard, dead or alive, would dare stand up against HIM, no matter how much gold Lucius tried to bribe them with.

_But I can't just let the boy walk away without any punishment, that would bring great shame to the Malfoy name and honor. I have to find a way to hurt him somehow…_

With the crackling fire as his only companion, Lucius sat for hours pondering about ways of bringing harm to the Potter heir. At last, he finally gave in to his sleepiness, and headed off to bed.

It was, however, not before his head hit the pillow that an idea struck him, an idea so brilliant he immediately flew back up onto his feet again, waking up his sleeping wife in the process.

"Wh… What are you doing, Lucius?" Narcissa Malfoy murmured, opening her drowsy eyes ever so slightly so she could look at him.

"Nothing you should concern yourself with, my dear. Go back to sleep now, I have some urgent business to take care of."

"Mmhhhh… Okay then, if you say so," she resigned, happily returning to the land of dreams.

Leaving the bedroom he shared with his wife, Lucius headed down the hallway that lead to his own personal study. He had already worked out the rough outlines of his plan, his mind going into overdrive at the thought of finally getting back at the Potter brat.

Sitting down behind a beautifully decorated mahogany desk situated at the back of the room, he quickly pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, and began writing a letter. Tomorrow morning, he would be visiting Gringotts in order to make a withdrawal, and as such, he would have to inform the goblins in advance so they could fill out the necessary paperwork. If everything went according to plan, he would have the item he was going to retrieve ready to be shipped again shortly afterwards.

The best part about all of this was that none of it could be traced back to him. If what he had heard about Potter was true, the boy would be the one inflicting this harm upon himself, without ever knowing of Lucius's involvement.

This time, there was no room for failure. Harry Potter had to die. And Lucius Malfoy would be the one to do it.

* * *

**Transfiguration Classroom**

"Curse the person who came up with the idea of detention…" Harry muttered to himself as he stared blankly at the wall. He had been stuck in the Transfiguration classroom for what felt like a small eternity already, and even Hermione had long since abandoned him to his boredom. Even a person as "academically inclined" as her couldn't stand to sit in one of the classrooms this late after class had ended, even if it was to keep him company.

Detention at Hogwarts worked more or less exactly like detention at a normal school would, the likeness being that there was absolutely nothing magical about it. The students would stay behind after the final class had ended, forced to stay in the classroom for a predetermined amount of time. Here they could work on their homework, read, draw or just do whatever they wanted.

Harry, being the knowledge-addict that he was, had no homework left to do of course, and as such had no other choice but to sit in silence and think. Contemplate… in this case, suicide. Speaking of suicide, he would actually rather prefer to go up against Voldemort again if it meant he could skip his remaining days of detention. At least the Dark Lord would kill him quickly.

Just as he was about to give up and let himself fall into an eternal coma, Professor McGonagall coughed, catching the attention of everyone present.

"You may leave."

_Finally…_

Leaving the classroom behind, Harry couldn't help but feel a wave of newfound respect for inmates who were stuck in prisons all around the world, forced to stay in the same collection of rooms for years on end. He was quite sure he would have lost his mind and gone crazy relatively fast in a place like that, if he ever had to go to prison for something.

"Finally let you go, huh?" Hermione said as she caught up with him on his way to the Ravenclaw Tower.

"Yeah, even the Professor was starting to look a little bored by the end there," Harry responded, shaking his head in exasperation. "I can't believe that anyone would willingly subject themselves to being stuck on guard duty for a bunch of teenagers like that."

"Well, unlike you they are actually getting paid to sit there," Hermione pointed out with a shrug. "And it's not like they have much of a choice anyway. Someone has to do it."

"Yeah, I guess you are right. Oh, and by the way, you wouldn't have happened to find the book I told you about earlier, would you?"

"If by "the book", you mean the book on Dark Rituals from the Restricted Section you have been eyeing for the past couple of days, then no, I didn't find it," she responded with a deadpan expression on her face. "There's no way I'm sneaking in there just so you can feed your obsession with Dark Magic."

"Fine. I was going to pick it up later tonight with the Invisibility Cloak anyway so no harm done," Harry retorted nonchalantly, ignoring the disappointed look Hermione was shooting him.

"Harry, dabbling in the Dark Arts is dangerous and often leads to disaster, you know that, right?"

"Yes."

"You are going to do it anyways, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"You really don't care about the school rules at all, do you?"

"No."

Hermione knew when she had been beaten, and let out a defeated sigh as the duo arrived at the entrance to the Tower.

"The person who made it, never used it, and the person who used it, never saw it. What is it?" the eagle knocker placed on the door asked them. This was without a doubt the most obnoxious thing about living in the Ravenclaw Tower. Every time someone wanted to enter the common room, they would have to answer correctly to a riddle posed by the knocker. Harry had long since memorized most of the answers, but every now and then the shifty little bastard would throw in some new ones just for the hell of it.

"A casket," Hermione answered, requiring nothing short of a second to figure out the answer. The door flew open, allowing them entrance into the common room, and Harry immediately set course for his room. He had to get back to the library before it got too late so he could pick up the book on Dark Rituals, and he also wanted to check out whether or not he could find the "mysterious" room he had heard rumors about that seemed to pop in and out of existence on the 7th floor. Hermione, however, had other plans, and grabbed his shirt-arm with an iron grip before he managed to get very far.

"Harry, aren't you forgetting something…?" she asked, doing nothing to hide the poorly concealed threat he sensed in her words.

"Uhm… No? I don't think so?" Harry answered carefully, measuring her reaction to his words. Oh no. Her eyebrows furrowed. His answer had been wrong. He was in trouble now.

"Oh, you don't think so? That's odd, considering your promise to help me with my Charms homework..." The ice in her voice was crystal clear this time, but Harry still didn't want to go down without a fight.

"Please, Hermione, have some mercy! I've just spent several of the most excruciating hours of my life stuck in a Transfiguration classroom, I just want some free time, please don't do this!" he pleaded, desperately trying to convince her to let him off the hook. Hermione wasn't having any of it though.

"Mr. Potter, you are coming with me this very second!"

And Harry had little choice but to do as she said. He didn't want to risk suffering the wrath of a Hermione on the warpath. Women could be downright terrifying sometimes.

* * *

**Diagon Alley**

Diagon Alley was often referred to as being the center of magical activity and shopping in Britain, with thousands of wizards and witches visiting their stores and locales every day. Due to this, it was usually one of the busiest areas in England, but on this particular Friday morning, the usually crowded streets were all but empty, save for a couple of stray cats and homeless vagabonds. This suited Lucius Malfoy well, because it meant that he wouldn't have to bulldoze his way through the thick crowd that normally surrounded the Gringotts Wizarding Bank to get to his vault. The decreased activity also meant that the chance of someone eavesdropping or spying on you was considerably lower than normal, which was just how he liked it. Lucius preferred to be the one doing the eavesdropping rather than the opposite. Approaching the massive bronze doors leading in to Gringotts, he let out a determined sigh before walking in.

The goblins all looked up from their desks along the wall as he entered the bank, all of them eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and hatred. It was a well-known fact that most goblins hated wizards, despite being the ones in control of their economy. The bloody Goblin Rebellions had, after all, only stopped due to a flimsy agreement between the goblins and the Ministry of Magic, in which the goblins retained the right to administer Gringotts, the only bank dedicated to storing wizarding effects in all of Britain. Needless to say, tensions were still high between the two races, and things would most likely stay that way for eternity, at least until someone with the skill and charisma to unite them came along.

But that was not why Lucius was here today, to spar with the goblins. He was here to retrieve a rather special item from one of his vault, an item that had the potential to wipe the Potter boy off the face of the earth forever. That was, if he could get the item to Hogwarts in the first place.

Lucius walked with his head held high all the way up to the front of the marble hall, coughing lightly to get the attention of the goblin that sat behind the quite frankly massive desk in the middle.

"Ahh, Lord Malfoy. Pleasure to see you here today," the banker known as Bogrod droned with false hospitality. "Judging by your letters, I would presume you are here to pick up the item you wrote about?"

"That would be correct. And I would deeply appreciate it if this matter could be taken care of and finished with as fast as possible. I have places to be, after all."

"Why of course, Lord Malfoy. Right this way," the goblin answered, a rueful grin plastered on his face. Lucius knew the creature was only remaining formal out of necessity, and would most likely have flipped him off if what they were doing hadn't been related to the goblins job. They took their responsibilities very seriously, after all.

The goblin lead him down a collection of connecting hallways and staircases, down to a hollowed-out cave that contained one of the mine cart-like contraptions they used to access the lower vaults. He hated these things. They had always made him feel nauseous ever since he had to visit the Malfoy Family Vault for the first time. The goblin must have noticed the hesitation in Lucius's eyes, because a big grin appeared on his face as he made a hand motion gesturing for him to get in.

 _Wretched creature_ , Lucius thought-projected as he found his seat.

 _Wizarding scum_ , the goblin laughed back mentally, taking great pleasure in seeing the flustered Wizard grab the edge of the cart with an iron grip.

It didn't take long for the cart to start moving, rapidly increasing in speed and transporting the duo deeper and deeper into the underground abyss beneath Gringotts. After a series of loops, twists and turns, they finally arrived at their destination.

Lucius slowly got out of the cart, his strong pride the only thing stopping him from bending over and throwing up right there on the spot. The goblin, however, seemed completely unfazed by the trip as he walked up to the door leading in to the Malfoy vault.

"As you know, the door to the vault is locked with a multitude of security measures. These measures include, but are not limited to, a lock requiring a very specific key, a detection spell that only triggers if it senses the presence of authorized personnel, a secret combination of words that only our employees know and a hand sensor," the goblin informed as he started deactivating one lock after the other. "This makes it virtually impossible for anyone but trusted Gringotts personnel to access this vault, thus making it the safest place in existence to store your Galleons."

The door finally swung open, setting fire to a multitude of torches that illuminated the vast amounts of riches inside the room.

"Here you go, Lord Malfoy."

Lucius gracefully approached his family's wealth, any thought of nausea vanishing at the marvelous sight of such bountiful treasures. The Malfoys had managed to accumulate a rather enormous amount of Galleons over the ages, making them one of the richest pureblood families in existence. He was now staring at approximately 50 percent of all that wealth. However, Galleons was not what he was here for today.

"Open the innermost sanctum, if you please," Malfoy said, turning around so he could address the goblin. The creature looked shocked for a second, before regaining its mask of professionalism and nodding its head.

"I have to tell you, nobody has requested the inner sanctum to be opened in at least a decade. I cannot promise that the item your family placed within that room still retains its original quality, as it has most likely suffered degradation during the course of time," the goblin droned whilst approaching the hidden door that rested at the back of the vault.

"That matters not, goblin, just open the room," Lucius stated, starting to feel impatient. He had wasted enough time here already. He had to get this over with, and return to Malfoy Manor as soon as possible.

"As you wish," the goblin responded, bowing his head ever so slightly before pulling out a rather peculiar-looking rock out of his jacket. He then proceeded to hold the rock up against the door, whispering words of ancient magic. As he finished, the rock vanished from his hand as if it had never even been there, and the door let out a shriek as it slowly opened up.

"Here you go, the sanctum is now open."

"Thank you."

Taking one last deep breath, Lucius strengthened his resolve and stepped inside of the small cave. The room itself was nothing special, just a small compartment that had been locked off from the main vault, but the item it guarded was nothing short of priceless.

And there, on a small stone table right in front of him, it lay, wrapped in cloth to hide its title. It was a thick grimoire, a seemingly innocent item with no extraordinary qualities. But Lucius knew better. This was perhaps the most exceptional relic in the entire Malfoy vault, containing knowledge that certain wizards would die to get their hands on. And they most likely would die too, if they tried to perform any of the rituals this book described.

Lucius reached out and carefully grabbed it from its stand. It was heavy, heavier than it looked, but other than that, it appeared to be nothing but an insignificant thing that could easily pass unnoticed if placed in a proper bookshelf. He did not remove the cloth covering its title, though, because doing so could be dangerous if done in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"If I may ask, Lord Malfoy…" the goblin started, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. "What are you going to do with that?"

Lucius shot the goblin a quick look, the traces of a small smile flashing across his lips.

"I'm going to give it to someone," he answered.


	2. Act 1: An Unwanted Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Harry Potter universe is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. I own nothing except my own characters and ideas.

_Lifting his hand to wipe away the tears, Harry swallowed hard in an attempt to get rid of the big lump that had formed in his throat. A strong sense of premonition had welled up in the core of the young boy's heart, and he knew with certainty that his time was short before Uncle Vernon would come banging on his door. What he had done was not good. Well, not good for him anyway. He had hurt Aunt Petunia, and for that, there would be consequences. There always was. Vernon would be extra angry this time too. The beating would hurt more and last longer than usual._

_But it wasn't his fault! Dudley had stolen his favorite toy soldier, and called Harry a liar when he confronted him about it. Aunt Petunia had, like always, taken her son's side, despite him being clearly in the wrong. You could even see the stolen toy laying on his nightstand! But no, Petunia had called him a freak and threatened him with two days of no dinner if he didn't get down on his knees and apologize to Dudley. To Dudley! He was the one who should be apologizing to Harry!_

_He hadn't been able to stop it. The anger had been too strong, too malevolent for him to control. He had lashed out, causing the lights to flicker and a book to crash into his Aunt's face. He immediately knew he had overreacted, but it was just so unfair! Why did everyone hate him? He hadn't done anything to deserve it! He had always been a good boy, never gotten into trouble with the other kids and never failed to deliver his homework on time. But yet Dudley was the one who always got all of the attention, whilst Harry received all of the blame, even for mistakes he wasn't responsible for._

_His thoughts were cut short as he heard a pair of angry footsteps approaching his cupboard under the stairs. Harry already knew who it was. Vernon was home from work, and that could only mean one thing: punishment was on its way._

_Harry always hated it when Vernon knocked on his door. It was such an angry knock, so full of malice. So this time, Harry strengthened his resolve, and opened the door before Vernon could pound on it. It was a bold move, he knew that much, but despite this he couldn't help but feel a sting of pride as he saw a brief hint of surprise coloring his Uncle's face before the anger returned and took its place._

" _Thought you could hide away in here, huh Freak?" Vernon wheezed with grim satisfaction, already starting to unbuckle his belt, right in front of Harry. He wanted the miscreant to know that pain was coming, and a lot of pain at that._

" _No, Uncle Vernon, I wasn't trying to hide…" Harry whispered back, a fresh wave of fear replacing the pride, tears starting to cloud his vision yet again._

" _Oh, you weren't? Well then I guess you don't mind if I do this!" Having freed the belt from his pants, his Uncle used it as a whip to deliver a rippling slash across the young boy's face. Despite having promised himself not to scream, Harry couldn't hold it in. The pain was just too much. It felt like a thousand wasps were stinging him over and over again, tearing up his skin in the spot where the belt had hit him._

" _Like that, don't you?" Vernon laughed as the young boy gasped in misery. After a couple of seconds, he lifted the belt yet again and whipped him right in the stomach, causing Harry to double over. "This will teach you not to hurt your Aunt ever again, you filthy cretin!"_

_Harry was in no position to even think about Aunt Petunia though, as he was struggling to breathe properly through the pain in his abdomen. Over the years, he had grown accustomed to physical suffering, but his stomach remained a weak point. His Uncle knew this, and had no problem utilizing it._

" _Look at me, boy!" Vernon shouted, grabbing him by the hair so he could see him. That turned out to be a bad idea, as Harry immediately took the opportunity to spit in his face._

" _I hate you!"_

_The shocked expression lasted only for a moment, before a newfound fury flamed up in his uncle's eyes._

" _Ohhh, you shouldn't have done that!"_

_Pulling him by the hair out of the cupboard, Vernon laughed as Harry screamed in pain, a trickle of blood running down the young boy's face. His Uncle, clouded as he was in the deep fog of anger, was not going to let a little blood stop him from punishing Harry however, and kept dragging him across the floor towards the living room._

" _Looks like you need to be taught a very special lesson, boy!"_

_And for the first time that day, Harry felt genuine, heart-wrenching anxiety fill his body. His uncle had never gone this far before. Had the spitting thing pushed him over the edge?_

_Heading straight for the fireplace, Vernon grabbed the scorching hot fire iron that he had used to tend the fire with earlier that morning. The tip was shining bright red, indicating that it was indeed intensely hot._

" _You are about to be in a whole lot of pain, boy!" he laughed, pulling up the sleeve on Harry's sweater with one hand, before lowering the fire iron towards the exposed skin. Harry realized only a moment too late what it was Vernon was planning to do, and howled in pain as the tip was pressed against his naked forearm._

_The sheer agony was unlike anything he had ever felt before. His skin sizzled and boiled, a sickly smell filling the room as Vernon pressed the iron down with greater force. Any trace of rational thought disappeared from his mind as he screamed at the top of his lungs, spasms raking through his body. His vision was fading, his consciousness drifting away rapidly._

_Sadly, he wasn't allowed to pass out by Vernon, as he removed the iron, giving Harry one sweet second of relief before the pain returned. He could already tell he was scarred for life, judging by how the wound oozed a strange, yellow-tinted fluid mixed with blood._

" _That'll teach you boy! Now if I were you, I'd get that checked out sooner rather than later," Vernon grinned as he left the room, leaving the wounded boy curled up in a ball on the carpet. Gasping for air, Harry fought a desperate battle against his rapidly fading consciousness, the pain receptors in his arm shooting off like twisted fireworks. He knew that if he stayed balled up like this for much longer, the wound might inflict permanent damage to his nerve endings, but he couldn't quite seem to muster up the strength to get up on his feet. Every time he made the slightest movement, a fresh wave of pain would surge through his body, practically paralyzing him._

_After what felt like an eternity, Aunt Petunia finally entered the room and saw him lying there in a pathetic heap. Luckily enough, she had more sense in her than her husband, and promptly called an ambulance. Harry never found out what lie his Uncle told the medical personnel, but it must've worked as he got off scot-free, with nobody even bothering to ask for his side of the story._

_The hospital did a good job, however, leaving Harry with no permanent damage except for the burn mark on his arm. That would stay with him forever, an eternal reminder of the cruelty he had been subjected to in his childhood._

* * *

**Ravenclaw Tower**

Opening his eyes, Harry was momentarily blinded by the sunlight flooding in through the windows of the Ravenclaw dormitory. He had never been particularly fond of the sun, especially not when it ripped him from his sleep and forced him to reposition to avoid its strong glare. He much preferred the calm and comfort of the darkness with its tender embrace.

A quick look at the watch he kept next to his bed told him that it was early morning, too early to be thinking about breakfast or school. He considered going back to sleep again, but decided against it as he felt rather energized, and doubted he would be able to nod off now that he was already awake.

In his dreams, he had revisited his childhood again, for whatever reason. He always hated it when that happened. Harry was the type of man to forget about the past and focus on the present, but it seemed nigh impossible to completely outrun his earlier days. They always came back to haunt him, one way or the other.

Despite what had been done to him, Harry harbored no resentment towards his Uncle. He certainly had no respect for the man, that much was obvious, but he didn't hate him. Uncle Vernon had, after all, been the first person who showed him the true nature of man, the cruelty every "civilized" being harbored inside of it, ready to burst out should the need ever arise. He had taught Harry a valuable lesson when it came to putting too much trust in others, a mistake that he would be sure not to make anytime soon.

Harry knew that his childhood with the Dursleys hadn't been anything even resembling normal. The constant rejection and beatings stood as a testament of that. Most people would probably be left speechless if he told them about some of the things he had been forced to endure at such a young age. He didn't blame them for that though. Even Hermione had done a poor job of hiding her disgust when he told her.

The most interesting reaction had actually come from Professor Dumbledore himself, when Harry told him of his childhood during his Second Year. He had been called to the Headmasters office to discuss the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, and the topic had sort of naturally drifted off towards his own upbringing once the subject of Tom Riddle had been brought up. Dumbledore had been deeply shocked by the news, to say the least. His entire façade had seemed to somber down, undoubtedly the result of guilt and regret. Harry still remembered his words to this day:

" _Forgive me Harry… I had no idea they would treat you like that… A fellow family member, even… Truly, there seems to be no end to my arrogance."_

At least the old geezer acknowledged his own stupidity on that one. It wasn't exactly a secret that the Headmaster had a nasty tendency of always thinking the best of people, often overestimating the goodness present in most. Harry had never quite been able to wrap his head around the logic behind such a belief. He already knew for a fact that most people were only out to take advantage of you for their own personal gain, so why would you trust them to do otherwise? It was human nature to care more about the well-being of your own than that of others, after all.

But that was all in the past. If everything went the way Harry wanted it to, he would never have to see his Aunt and Uncle ever again. They were nothing but fragments of a tormented past, completely useless to him now.

And on the topic of the past, Harry had never actually found out what had happened to the corpse of the Basilisk he and Hermione had slain in the Chamber of Secrets. If his calculations were correct (and they usually were), certain body parts from such a legendary creature was worth nothing short of a small fortune if sold to the right buyer, and Harry would've very much liked to get a piece of that pie. He did, however, have a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore had already taken advantage of this fact, and sold the darn thing right under his nose.

 _Shorted by the Headmaster himself,_ Harry chuckled, the thought of being scammed by one of the most prominent wizards in the Wizarding Community bringing a smile to his face.

_Well, no matter. There are still tons of options readily available for me to take use of once I get a little older, ways for me to grow my meager fortune instead of wasting it._

The wizarding economy was surprisingly easy to take advantage of after all; it was just that few wizards seemed to carry either the brain capacity or the ingenuity to think up anything even resembling a smart financial plan or a pyramid scheme. This, sadly, would in theory make them excellent targets for con artists who knew what they were doing.

Another look at his watch told him that it was almost time for breakfast now. Reminiscing about the past had apparently killed more time than he had originally expected, which was a welcome surprise. Learning from your mistakes was an important part of growing up, and Harry acknowledged this and tried to do it to the best of his ability. Everything that would help him obtain magical superiority was in his eyes worth doing, after all.

* * *

**The Great Hall**

The Great Hall was eerily silent when Harry arrived. Only a handful of students had made their way here this early in the morning, and most of those that had were all deadly tired and not overly interested in engaging in small talk. This actually suited Harry just fine, as he found small talk to be incredibly pointless and boring in the first place, and best reserved for situations where you were forced to entertain uninteresting people for prolonged amounts of time.

What didn't suit him quite as fine, however, was the fact that Hermione seemed to have woken up early that day too and decided to go to breakfast, because she was sitting in the exact spot Harry always chose. The two of them hadn't really had an opportunity to really talk since his little "incident" in the library the other day, and he knew that the inevitable conversation they would have to have would be awkward at best. Explaining his Obscurus theory could prove to be quite hard and possibly dangerous, after all. She might just end up ratting him out to Dumbledore for "his own safety" or something along those lines and that would just be real peachy right about now.

"Top of the morning to you, Hermione," he said, opting to use a bit of irish slang to set the mood.

"Oh… morning, Harry…" she muttered back weakly, obviously not really paying him any sort of attention. She seemed to have something else on her mind. Perfect.

"Something on your mind, Hermione? You seem to be a little… despondent this morning," he asked, settling down on the bench in front of her.

"… Despondent?" she replied, her eyes flickering ever so slightly with a spark of humor. "Where'd you find that word, the Queen's English Dictionary?"

"No, I did not, but thank you for noticing. I've been trying to use a more formal language lately to appear more mature, and I haven't really gotten any sort of substantial feedback before now."

"Harry, we are 13."

"Physically, yes."

Sighing, she lowered her head and let it rest against the wooden table.

"You are one weird boy, Harry."

"I believe you have told me so multiple times already."

"You are trying to sound mature again, aren't you?"

"Aye aye, captain."

That managed to elicit a small chuckle, and Harry noted it down as a success.

"Whatever, you do you pal. I just wish I could get rid of this gosh darn headache that's been plaguing me for the past couple of hours," she exhaled weakly, using one hand to gently massage her temples.

"I think I might be able to help with that," Harry replied, pulling out his wand from the inside of his robes.

"You think?" Hermione said, lifting her head up so she could get a better look at what he was doing.

"Just sit… completely… still," he responded, pointing the tip of the wand towards her forehead. " _Reparifors!_ "

It took a second for the spell to kick in, but once it did, Hermione felt her headache slowly mutter out and fade away.

"Wow, that's amazing! But I thought the Reparifors spell only healed magically-induced ailments?" she mused, rubbing the side of her head to double check that the headache was indeed gone.

"Yeah, that's what I originally thought too. But apparently it recognizes headaches as "magical" and works on those as well. We have magical headaches, Hermione."

"Well that's a little… weird? But hey, as long as it works it's fine by me. Thank you!"

"You are more than welcome."

The mood lightened up quite a lot at that, with Hermione's headache gone and her mind cleared. That, however, meant that she finally remembered what had happened in the library.

"You owe me an explanation, you know," she started, bringing up the topic as casually as she could. "An explanation as to what happened in the library the other day."

Letting out a sigh, Harry let his head fall into his hands. This time, it was his turn to rub his temples in exasperation.

"I know, I know… It's just that… well, it's more complicated than you think," he replied, avoiding eye contact by staring at the table instead.

"Oh? How so?" she continued, making her intentions as clear as possible. She wanted to know what had really happened, what the source of the outburst was.

"You see… uhm, how do I put this… I think I might have a minor… condition… that is, well, of an unusual nature."

"And this condition would be…?"

"I think I might be an Obscurial."

It took her a moment to realize that he was not actually joking.

"You think… you have an Obscurus growing inside of you?"

"Correct."

"And you've known about this for how long?"

"A couple of months, I think."

"And you haven't told anyone or tried to get help?"

"No."

The rush of anger came out of nowhere, and caught both her and Harry by complete surprise.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING, HARRY?"

The sudden outburst caught the attention of all of the students currently present in The Great Hall, and Hermione suddenly felt a whole lot of eyes shifting towards them.

"Great work, Hermione, you just got yourself an audience," Harry replied through gritted teeth, his eyes burning with frustration.

"I'm sorry..." she muttered weakly, lowering her head in shame. It wasn't like her to explode like that. The news had just been too much for her to handle.

"It's… fine…" he breathed, using Occlumency to calm himself down. He had secretly been practicing his skills in the Mind Arts for several months now, and had gotten quite good at it. Well, at least as good as a 13-year-old boy currently going into puberty could get. He was probably no match for any wizard actually trained in the field.

"We'll talk more about this later, ok? For now, we keep it between us."

Despite having obvious objections to this decision, she decided to go with it regardless. She could tell that it was not up for debate, at least not in front of all the other students.

"… Ok..."

* * *

**Charms Class**

_Fuck._

Harry had known that telling Hermione about his Obscurial-condition would be a mistake. She was bound to freak out over news like that, as she had so gracefully displayed in The Great Hall. There was no way she would be able to think about it rationally now, and would most likely end up acting on pure emotions instead of logic. That could spell disaster for Harry and his future plans.

_If Dumbledore finds out about this, he'll most likely push to get me admitted into St. Mungo's. Needless to say, I don't have time for that. I have research to do, magic to learn. Being stuck in that dreadful hospital will only work to halt my progress. Hell, if I actually am an Obscurial, that might just be the tipping point._

He knew he had to find a way to convince Hermione to keep it secret. The first thing he had thought of was to use the Obliviate spell on her to make her forget all about the conversation, but, seeing as Obliviation was an insanely hard spell to get right, it carried with it the high chance of backfiring heavily if he messed up. And, despite his current frustration, he didn't really want to fry his only friend's brain like a hotdog by mistake and turn her into a complete potato.

The second idea had been to blackmail her into submission, but that would most likely just result in the opposite effect of what he desired, and make her go to Dumbledore even faster. And what kind of leverage did he really have on her, anyway? That she sometimes chewed her food with her mouth open?

And finally, the third and last idea had been to sexually dominate her to the point where she would willingly surrender herself to him and listen to his every command, and whilst the idea _had_ invoked a rather strong reaction from his rapidly evolving libido, even a horny teenager with minimal brain capacity could see that something like that would most likely only result in nothing but catastrophe and a magical restraining order.

This whole thing truly was the definition of a tricky situation, and tricky situations annoyed Harry to no end. He liked it best when everything went according to a clear plan, with little to no deviation. Tricky situations certainly did not fit in with that mindset. They didn't fit into anything at all, actually.

"Harry Potter, if you would please pay attention to what is happening in class rather than your own daydreams, that would be great," Professor Flitwick suddenly chimed, completely derailing Harry's train of thought.

"Of course, Professor," he replied, keeping his annoyance at the tiny half-goblin for daring to interfere with his scheming hidden behind a sweet tone of voice. Harry didn't actually dislike the man himself, however, as he was in fact one of the only Professors at Hogwarts that he genuinely had no problem with. People like McGonagall and Trelawney, on the other hand, he usually tried to avoid interacting with as much as possible. Not to mention Snape, the salty Potions Master that seemed to hate Harry with every fiber of his being despite Harry never having done anything to him to warrant such resentment.

"Thank you, Harry. Now, if you would all please turn your books to page 254, where we will be reading about the _Lumos Maxima_ spell…"

Once the Professor switched back into "teacher mode", Harry promptly continued to absentmindedly stare out into nothingness rather than paying attention to what was happening in class. Most of what was being taught, he already knew from before, and what he missed he could always catch up on later at the library anyway. He worked best when he wasn't surrounded by halfwits, too.

* * *

**Slytherin Common Room**

Draco Malfoy ate his lunch in petulant silence, contemplating ways he could punish Potter for disrespecting him and making him look like a fool in front of his subordinates. The young wizard posed a threat to everything Malfoy valued, after all; power, respect and control over his fellow students. And he'd be damned if he was going to let some arrogant little prick like Potter stomp on his pride and reputation. Luckily enough for him, in the latest letter he had received from his Father, Lucius had told him that he had plans to "remove" Potter from the playing field relatively soon, rightfully restoring Draco's earlier status as the most dangerous First Year student at Hogwarts. That letter couldn't have come at a better time, actually, as Draco was starting to feel more and more annoyed by the day. Finally, he knew for a fact that Potter was going to get what was coming to him. His Father always followed up on his promises.

_Just you wait, Potter. Father is going to punish you worse than you can ever imagine for daring to hurt a member of the Malfoy family. You will regret ever being born, you filthy mudblood._

Despite having taken to calling him a mudblood, Draco was acutely aware of the fact that Harry was actually no such thing. This didn't stop him from calling him it though, as he liked to think that he was one nonetheless, since it helped feed his illusion of superiority.

What Draco wasn't aware of, however, was just what Lucius had in mind for the young boy. In his mind, his Father might spread some propaganda about the Potter family in The Daily Prophet, maybe get some Sixth or Seventh Years to beat the crap out of him, and poison his food with sicknesses like Food Poisoning or hard cases of the flu. He could never imagine that he would actually go as far as to actively attempt to take his life, which was exactly what Lucius was going to do. This, however, was more the result of Draco's still childish mind and ignorance rather than him carrying any sort of sympathy or goodwill for the boy.

Rubbing his hands together in childish glee, Draco couldn't help but smile at the thought of Potter ridiculed in front of everyone at Hogwarts. And, as visions of Harry walking down the middle of the Great Hall in only his underwear filled his mind, he completely forgot to think about the fact that he hadn't actually finished his lunch yet, or that class was about to start.

Needless to say, Draco missed Flying class that day.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Library**

Harry had always preferred to conduct his studies in the library, but today it was proving to be much harder than usual to focus on his schoolwork. This had more to do with the fact that his female friend kept shooting him worried looks from across the table they shared than with anything on his end, though.

"Hermione, you're doing it again," he droned, letting out an internal sigh as he caught her red-handed in the act for the millionth time that evening.

"Oh… I'm sorry, I just… well, I can't stop thinking about it," she answered, letting out a sigh of her own, only this one being very long and very audible instead of internal.

"I know it must be hard for you to know that I am practically the living incarnation of a ticking atom bomb, but please try to focus on your own studies rather than worrying about me."

"You know, when you put it like that, it just makes it even harder to ignore you," she replied with a deadpan look on her face.

"Look, Hermione, I'm not going to sugarcoat it. Whatever is happening to me is a very serious thing that must be dealt with as soon as possible, lest we risk letting a potential Obscurus loose inside Hogwarts. But constantly worrying about it isn't going to solve anything. In fact, it will only serve to disturb you from your schoolwork and cause your grades to drop faster than a fat man doing the cannonball into a pool." When in doubt, Harry always resorted to appealing to Hermione's sense of duty when it came to her studies, which in most cases had proven to be a rather effective conversation tactic. This time was no different, and he could practically see Hermione returning to her senses as horrible thoughts of getting an _Exceeds Expectations_ instead of an _Outstanding_ on her OWL's filled her head.

"Yeah… I… I guess you're right, maybe I am overreacting," she finally admitted, her mouth drawn into a strict line on her face, bringing forth the expression she always wore whenever she knew she had lost an argument. Harry knew from before, of course, that she hated losing an argument just as much as he did, but this time he couldn't afford to give her the victory. He had to make her see things his way. It was the only solution.

In addition, despite having to constantly deal with Harry's incredibly rational approach to most situations or problems, he knew that deep inside, she loved having debates like this with him. It was a way for them to measure their intellect, to hone their skills against one another as fellow students and wizards. And deep inside, however much he hated to admit it, Harry knew he felt the exact same way. Hogwarts would definitely have been a much more boring place without Hermione in it, if nothing else.

"But you have to promise me that you'll look for a way to fix this," she suddenly said, locking him with an iron stare that left no room for negotiation.

"Of course. You think I want to blow up and lose control?" he replied, a hint of sarcasm coloring his voice.

"No, I wouldn't think so, but you never know with you."

"Touché."

"Thank you."

They returned to their studies once again, and the well-known aura of silence and concentration that usually surrounded their table came back and embraced the both of them. The silence didn't last long, however, as a House Elf magically appeared right in front of Harry only moments later.

"Harry Potter, a package addressed to you has shown up in the message box. It has been delivered to your room, sir," the House Elf piped, looking up at him with a mix of admiration and genuine happiness. Needless to say, the look freaked him the fuck out. No one should feel happy living under the slave-like conditions that the House Elves did, and yet they never complained and always treated you like you had royal blood flowing through your veins.

"Thank you, House Elf. Take this as thanks for your service," Harry answered, bringing forth a Galleon from his pocket that he always carried with him. He had made it a habit to always reward the House Elves whenever they did something for him, mostly just due to the fact that he felt uncomfortable with them slaving away for him with little to no pay in return. It reminded him too much of the slavery that had existed in the earlier days of America and Africa, where the blacks were forced to work for the whites under horrible conditions.

"For me?" the House Elf replied, tears welling up in its eyes.

"Yes, now take it. You've deserved it."

"You are a very kind person, Harry Potter. I promise you we will not forget how you treated us once you leave Hogwarts," the little creature sobbed, using its dirty rags to wipe away the tears that rolled down its cheeks. And then, with a poof, the Elf disappeared into thin air as if it had never even been there in the first place.

Harry was surprised to see Hermione sending him a warm smile when he turned his eyes away from where the House Elf had been standing just moments earlier.

"Even if you are a lost cause, it is things like that that reassure me that you are actually a very good person after all, Harry," she said, her eyes twinkling ever so slightly in the afternoon light. And despite himself, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of compassion flare up in his chest seeing her smile at him like that.

"Oh get lost," he replied, rolling his eyes and diverting his attention back to his books again, ignoring the burning sensation in his chest as if it wasn't even there.

* * *

**Ravenclaw Tower**

On first notice, the package he had received didn't exactly look like much. It had been crudely wrapped in dark brown paper of low quality, with a tiny white sticker carrying his name haphazardly slapped onto the side. It looked like something your friendly neighborhood cocain dealer might ship his merchandise in, which only helped add to its suspicious nature. Who in the world had sent him this package? Could it be one of his fans?

Harry was well aware of the fact that he held something of a celebrity status in the wizarding world due to his ability to survive the Dark Lord's Killing Curse all those years ago. He was also aware that the scar on his forehead was a surefire way of identifying him in public, which is why he usually covered it up with magic whenever he went somewhere outside of Hogwarts. But he had never received a package from any of his admirers before though, so this was something of a first to him.

Upon closer inspection, however, it became obvious that this was not an ordinary package. It gave off a chilling, almost evil aura, and Harry wasn't sure exactly how he could tell, but for some reason he knew that whatever was inside was of Dark origin. It carried with it the aftertaste of Dark Magic, the feeling of it imbued into the very wrapping paper itself.

In fact, all of the light in the boys' dorm seemed to darken slightly whilst the package was present, only further strengthening Harry's belief that this was not something to be opened without taking great care.

But alas, if this indeed was an assassination attempt, it was a damn clever one, because the perpetrators obviously knew about Harry's burning curiosity of the unknown. Every fiber of his being ached to open the package, to reveal the mystery inside. His insatiable need for knowledge rose to nearly uncontrollable heights, nibbling away at the corner of his thoughts, always present, always hungry. After fighting an uphill battle against his own mind for what felt like an eternity, Harry finally gave in to temptation, and approached the package with a letter knife in hand. He couldn't resist the urge, he had to know what was inside.

Immediately upon slicing open a sliver of the package, Harry could feel the overwhelming presence of Dark Magic emanating from within. Whatever was inside this thing was evil to the bone, and he knew one misstep could easily cost him his life. Harry had only felt this type of aura once before, during the night when Lord Voldemort had come to Godric's Hollow to end his existence. The night where his parents had fallen in an effort to protect him, to protect their son.

Harry knew he should stop, knew that the malice coming from within the package was indicative of great danger and all sorts of curses. But he had lost all control at this point. He was like a child at Christmas morning, eagerly unwrapping his presents, unable to hold back his anticipation.

After finally managing to get all of the wrapping paper off, what awaited him was what looked like a completely ordinary cardboard box. There was nothing inherently magical or special to it, if you ignored the radiating presence of death itself, of course. Still, Harry couldn't help but think that perhaps what was inside wasn't as evil as he had first imagined.

Going in for a daring peak into the tiny slit that separated the two flaps of cardboard, he caught the sight of what looked like ancient paper wrapped in crude leather. It only took him a moment to realize what it was he was staring at.

_It's a book._

Opening up the box, Harry carefully lowered his hands into it and grabbed hold of the old book so he could get a better look at it.

Immediately upon touching its leather cover, jolts of what felt like electricity shot up through his fingers, setting his nerves on fire as they made their way through his body. Every strand of hair on his arms jutted out like razorblades, standing on edge as the aftershock raked through his now stiff muscles.

Foreign whispers belonging to unknown souls filled his head as his hands, moving on their own, gently stroked the ancient tome as if it was some sort of prized possession. The light from a nearby lamp cast itself over its front side, revealing long, crooked letters arranged into two words that seemed to suck all notions of happiness and joy out of this world:

**Daemonis Magicka.**

_This is wrong._

_I can't do this._

_This book is dark._

_So very dark._

_The words written on these pages shouldn't be read._

New thoughts manifested themselves amongst the preexisting ones, popping up in his head like whack-a-moles at an arcade machine, except that the moles were beating human hearts and the hammer used to smash them was an old, bloodstained huntsman axe.

_I need to hide this._

_Nobody can know this exists._

_It's an abomination._

_I can't show this to anyone._

_It must remain secret._

_I must take this book with me to the grave._

Suddenly, a lone tear ran down his chin, leaving a wet trail as it streaked across his face. Apparently, he had been staring so intently at the book that he had forgotten to blink, causing his eyes to start to burn and water over. This, however, had actually been a good thing, as it broke the trance he had been stuck in.

With renewed vigor, Harry violently threw the book across the room, a strong desire to get as far away from it as possible erupting in his chest. He couldn't stand to look at it for another minute, lest he risk losing his sanity. Only one thought remained in his head: he had to hide this book as best he could, keep it secret from everyone and everything, even God himself if such a being actually existed.

_Hermione can't know._

_Hermione can't know._

* * *

**Malfoy Manor**

Time was an abstract and weird thing. It could appear to pass faster than it was supposed to, whenever the mind was occupied with other tasks and not paying attention to it. It could also appear to go considerably slower than normal, which was exactly what was happening to Lucius Malfoy at this very moment.

The past couple of days had felt more like weeks to him, as he impatiently awaited news of Harry Potter's demise. By now the artifact should have arrived at Hogwarts, and be in Potter's possession. That meant that it was only a matter of time before the darkness residing in it eventually got the better of the boy, and claimed his life. Lucius couldn't wait. The Dark Lord, if his supposedly immortal soul still lingered in this world, would be so proud of him if he heard of his success. Perhaps he would grant him a country of his own once they inevitably took control of every wizarding community in existence. Lord Voldemort was, after all, the strongest wizard to have ever lived, apart from Merlin himself, of course. Who would stand against them once The Boy Who Lived was dead and buried? Who would have the strength to stop them?

Still, Lucius had yet to hear anything about Harry Potter or any of his friends, for that matter. Not that it appeared he had many. According to Draco, the only person he ever spent any considerable amount of time with was the mudblood girl Hermione Granger, and that was only because they were both the top two students in their Year and pretty much had nobody else to compare themselves to but each other.

Originally, Lucius had expected Harry to be surrounded by people, and have many associates in which he placed his trust. But that didn't appear to be the case. Harry was, at least if Draco's words were anything to go by, considered to be quite the sociopath by his fellow piers. Most avoided him like the plague, his cold gaze and downright hostile attitude a great repellant for anyone interested in befriending him.

This had surprised Lucius greatly, as he would never have guessed that the son of Lilly and James Potter would turn out to be an antisocial introvert. Not that it really mattered though. If everything went according to plan, the Potter boy would be dead by the end of the week. All Lucius had to do now was wait for the good news. Yes, everything required of him now was patience. He had done his part of the job. Now, the rest was up to the artifact itself. Evil as that wretched thing was, Lucius had no doubt that it would eventually claim the boy's life, like it had done to its previous owners.

With these thoughts in mind, he finally closed his eyes and went on to have a good night's sleep for the first time in the past 3 days. His slumber was dreamless and carefree.

* * *

**Headmaster's Office**

Dumbledore squinted his eyes as he focused his senses on the location of the abnormality he had felt appear and vanish again just moments earlier. It had been nothing but a brief hint of darkness, rapidly overshadowed by the strong aura of the ancient castle that was Hogwarts, but it had caught his attention nonetheless. According to his well-trained sense of direction, the oddity had originated from the Ravenclaw Tower, more specifically from the boys' dorm. Again, it had been nothing but a speck of dust in an otherwise endless sea of magical aura, but for some reason, something about it had just felt… off. Like for a short period of time, an object that was not meant to exist in this world had crossed through the boundary between the dimensions and popped up right here in his own castle, before disappearing again just as rapidly.

"Is something the matter, Albus?" Minerva McGonagall asked, addressing him in her usual, informal way.

"Oh, nothing to worry about. I just had… well, what I would call a rather odd little hunch, that's all," Dumbledore replied with a reassuring smile, reaching forward to grab a Sherbet Lemon from the goblet resting at the front of his desk.

"Are you sure?" the old Professor droned, a hint of worry entering her voice. She knew perfectly well how Albus had a tendency of underplaying issues as small annoyances rather than taking them at face value, and would not be fooled into ignoring any problem, no matter its scale or importance.

"Trust me, Minerva, there is nothing wrong. The problem seems to have resolved itself, as well, so there is no need for us to act."

A moment of silence filled the air between them until she finally opened her mouth to respond.

"All right, if you say so."

McGonagall then went back to talking about the curriculum for the Forth Years in Transfiguration like she had been doing before Dumbledore zoned out, with Albus pretending to listen by putting on a smile and occasionally nodding. His thoughts, however, were elsewhere, namely on the topic of the disturbance he had felt.

_Resolved itself, huh…_


	3. Act 1: A Daring Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

Despite having been sent what could only be considered a Dark Artefact as fan mail, life at Hogwarts proceeded as usual with little to no deviation from the norm. Harry still had to attend classes, Snape still hated his guts and Dumbledore still kept up the act of pretending to be everyone's wise grandfather when he in reality was nothing but a meddling arsehole. Life was, in most cases, completely and utterly normal. Except for the part where Harry had a dark secret that he felt compelled to keep from everyone and everything, of course. He did not even know why it mattered so much to him anymore. It was only an ancient tome, after all, it could hardly do **that** much damage. But something deep inside of him told him that telling people about it would be a very bad idea.

So he kept living his day to day life shrouded in a constant state of premonition, each day feeling like an opportunity for someone to call his bluff, for someone to realize that he was indeed hiding something. Luckily enough for him though, people had a tendency of avoiding him whenever they could from before, so even if he was acting rather strangely, most of his classmates would probably just write it off as him being a little more weird than usual.

The only one who would not do such a thing, though, and therefore posed the biggest threat to him and his secret, was his one and only friend, Hermione Granger. Harry was fairly certain that she was onto him at this point. The questioning looks she kept sending him in class, the awkward tension that filled the air whenever they studied together in the library, the steadily rising lack of communication between them, all of these were signs that she had noticed that something was wrong, but was either being too childish or too scared to ask him about it outright.

He was, however, under no illusions that the current situation would remain the same for too much longer. Hermione was bound to eventually ask him what was wrong, and he would have to have an answer ready ahead of time when she finally did. What that answer would be, though, he did not know.

_I guess I could use my Obscurial situation as an excuse for my weird behavior lately, but would she really be that easy to fool?_

Hermione was, after all, an incredibly talented and intelligent witch, and would most likely be able to see through such a lie with relative ease, putting him in an even worse position. On top of that, if she found out that he had been lying to her, her trust in him would falter significantly, and that again could in a worst-case scenario lead to her telling Dumbledore about the Obscurus theory. And THAT would be very bad indeed.

_Plus, do I really want to lose my one and only friend?_

Regaining her friendship after such an act could prove to be harder than anticipated, after all, seeing as "elephants never forget" and all that. In addition, as Harry had never had to deal with such issues before, he would most likely have no idea how to "console" or "help" her and end up making things worse.

_God I hate being so "rationally inclined" sometimes._

The rational solution, whilst usually being the one that made the most sense, was not always the best one, especially not when it came to females. He had quickly learned his lesson in this particular area after the time Hermione came to him with some newly purchased clothes in search of his opinion on them. He had, of course, told her what he thought, but completely forgotten that he wasn't supposed to be 100 percent honest, and therefore proceeded to calling them rather bland and unattractive. Not realizing his mistake, he had thought everything to be okay before Hermione had suddenly started crying and slapped him with her handbag. That had served as his wake-up call when it came to females and telling them the truth about certain things.

* * *

**The Great Hall**

Letting out a heartfelt yawn, Harry stretched his arms over his head as he absentmindedly stared out over the vast selection of foods currently available on the table in front of him. It was dinnertime, and as such, the Great Hall was filled with hundreds of students, their voices overlapping each other in tandem. Despite its chaotic nature, Harry had always found the overbearing sound to be strangely comforting, a sign of life and bustle in the otherwise empty stone castle. Some might call this particular thought hypocritical, with him being the antisocial shut-in that he was, but he didn't mind. The sound of student life was nice to listen to. Participating in it, on the other hand, was not nearly as nice.

"Harry, you're doing it again," Hermione noted as she passed him the butter he had asked for just moments earlier and then forgotten about.

"Uhm… Sorry, what was that?" Harry replied as he was shaken out of his daydream.

"That thing where you completely zone out in a conversation, despite being the one who initiated it in the first place."

"Oh, that thing," he remarked as he spread butter out across the piece of toast laying on his plate. "I do that a lot, don't I?"

"Yes you do, but you've started doing it a lot more than usual lately. Harry, I know something's up, you don't have to pretend."

_Dammit. There it was. The start of a line of questioning that would inevitably lead into dangerous territory._

He purposefully lifted his eyes up to meet hers in a defying stare, his mouth taking the form of a strict line.

"There's just no fooling you, is there?"

"No, there is not, especially not when it comes to my best friend," she fired back, fixing him with a stare of her own. It was filled with unshakable determination, and for a brief moment, Harry felt a genuine sting of pride tug at his heartstrings. He could really see that she had taken his teachings on the art of controlling conversations to heart. But the pupil was still no match for the master.

"Then you also know that the chances of me actually telling you what is going on are incredibly low, right?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with it!"

"I don't care if you're okay with it; I'm doing it for your own safety."

A small chuckle escaped her lips as he said that.

"For my own safety? Please, Harry, cut me some slack here. I know you better than that. You never do anything for anyone other than yourself."

A harsh statement, one that most might have been offended by, but Harry simply smiled.

"You know me too well, my young Padawan."

"I'm not your "Padawan", Harry. I'm your friend," she replied, the frustration clear in her voice. Harry knew that she hated it when he kept secrets from her. But this particular secret was just too much for her to handle. Hell, she had barely been able to keep it together when he told her about his Obscurus theory, what in the world would happen if he told her about the potentially incredibly dangerous Evil Artefact he kept hidden in a secret compartment underneath his bed in Ravenclaw Tower?

Letting out a small sigh, he yet again returned his attention to the piece of toast in front of him.

"Listen Hermione, I know you are a very curious person by nature, and I hate keeping you in the dark about information I know you'd very much like to have, but in this case, I really have no choice. This is simply too… well, intense… for anyone else to know about."

He could easily tell that his answer didn't make her any less interested, but she must've realized that she wasn't going to get anything out of him like this, because she let up with the intense staring and directed her focus back to the food on the table instead.

"Dammit Harry, why do you always have to make things so complicated?" she muttered weakly as she poked at her scrambled eggs with a fork.

"I'm sorry, it's just in my nature," he replied matter-of-factly, inwardly letting out a relieved sigh at his apparent success. He had managed to buy himself some more time, for now at least. Hermione would undoubtedly eventually decide to force the information out of him, but he would deal with that issue when it came up.

_Procrastination and improvisation has treated me well lately. I wish things could continue that way forever._

His luck was bound to run out at some point, though.

_Fuck it; I'll deal with that later too._

* * *

**Azkaban, North Sea**

In a far-away location, invisible from any map or targeting charm, Muggle or Magical, the fortress of Azkaban stood like an imposing colossus watching out over the endless sea. The wind whipping away at its smooth, grey rock, the water crashing against its rocky shores, the castle-like structure cut an impressive figure as it withstood the harsh elements Mother Nature threw at it.

The island of Azkaban had not always served as a prison for disobedient or downright evil wizards. A particularly nasty Dark Lord had first inhabited it back in the 15th century, going by the name of Ekrizdis. He had decided that the location would be the perfect hideout for him to conduct experiments related to Dark Magic, and had used a plethora of ways to lure Muggle sailors out to his fortress, for use in ritualistic sacrifices or as Potion ingredients in his attempts to create an artificial Elixir of Life. Needless to say, he did not live for long, as one rarely did when dabbling with such unknown powers. After his demise, the various concealment charms placed on the island faded, and the Ministry of Magic became aware of its existence.

Upon exploring the now abandoned fortress, the Ministry officials discovered a multitude of horrors seemingly linked to the very foundations of the structure itself, including what looked like an infestation of Dementors. Said Dementors had no doubt been "called" there by the suffering of the captured sailors, and decided to make the island their "home", for lack of a better word.

The island was left surprisingly undisturbed after this initial voyage, mostly because no wizard alive dared travel to such a horrid place, but when the International Statue of Secrecy was established, the Ministry started looking at the haunted location as a possible investment venue. When Damocles Rowle took office as Minister of Magic in 1718, he proposed a plan to utilize the island of Azkaban as a potential prison for wizard inmates, advising to use the already "docile" Dementors as prison guards. Despite the highly questionable ethical nature of the proposal, the plan was met with great reception, and after a couple of years, Azkaban was officially open for business. And ever since, the place had remained the de-facto prison for the British Wizarding World and its criminals.

And it was within these god-forsaken walls that a lone prisoner going by the name of Sirius Black awoke from his restless slumber. Groaning in despair, he ever so slowly pushed himself up into an upright sitting position, using his legs as cushions. For a fleeting moment, he had imagined himself to be elsewhere, back in the wonderful embrace of Lily Potter's arms.

It was no secret that Sirius had harbored a deep interest for Lily. He had loved her ever since he first laid eyes on her, he reckoned, but had quickly realized that her heart belonged to a different man. That man was James. James Potter. His best friend.

That name brought back painful memories, and despite his unwillingness to remember, he couldn't help himself as he drifted off into nostalgic thoughts about his past. The moment did not last, though. It never did in here, in this hollow place. The Dementors could smell happiness from a mile away, and Sirius knew they would be all over him in a manner of minutes. He had dared dream of better times. His jailors did not like it when he did that.

Just as he had suspected, he felt the first of them approach his cell just seconds later. The very presence of the creature seemed to drive away all trace of joy, and he could feel his heart grow heavy at the thought of what was to come. The Dementor would Kiss him, and leave him laying there in a pathetic heap once his memories had been sucked dry of their happiness. The wicked thing fed on it, after all.

The rain outside picked up in intensity, large drops of water splashing in through the bars that separated his cell and the ocean. The floor, however, was already wet with them from before. A few more would hardly make a difference. And it was in that moment, whilst Sirius was preparing himself for the cold embrace of the Dementor, and the rain was crashing against the stone walls, that it happened.

He almost didn't notice it at first. He heard the sound of it hitting the floor, of course, but his mind was too far gone to recognize the faint tinge of magic that came with it. It was only when he looked away from the entrance to his room in fear of what was to come that he noticed it laying there on the ground next to him.

It was a wand. An actual wand. Somehow, it had miraculously made its way into his cell, into his reach.

He hadn't seen one in ages, and had almost convinced himself they were just a figment of his imagination, another hopeless idea for his mind to get fixated on. After all, there was no way to defend yourself against the constant onslaught of a Dementor that was hell-bent on ravaging your soul. Or was there? Sirius couldn't remember. It had been too long since he had thought of spells and magic in general.

Then, suddenly, it came to him. That tiny spark of happiness that he had not felt since his first days in this wicked prison. That small flicker of light that kept the darkness in his head at bay. That thing he thought the Dementors had taken from him. Hope. Genuine, heart-warming hope.

His eyes wide open; he slowly bent over to pick up the almost alien little thing. It truly was an honest-to-God wand. An instrument fit for a wizard, right there in the palm of his hand.

And just like that, an idea started forming in his head. A tiny plan, so miniscule it was almost indistinguishable from the already distorted mess his thoughts were. But it was there.

The Dementor was getting close now, he could feel its distorted presence just outside his cell. What was that spell again, the one they taught you so you could protect yourself from them? He vaguely remembered casting it involved happy memories, but could not for the life of him recall the incantation.

_A doe._

_A beautiful, corporeal doe._

_Lily's Patronus._

_It was a doe._

In his mind, he could see Lily and James smiling back at him as he summoned his first successful Patronus, a distant memory of their school days at Hogwarts together.

Pointing his wand at the Dementor that had now floated into his cell with unnatural fluidity, he uttered those words he thought he would never say again:

"Expecto Patronum!"

The bright light that erupted from his wand momentarily blinded him, as his eyes were not used to such beautiful things, but he heard the Dementor scream in pain and retreat out of his little room, a surefire sign that his plan had worked. The memory he had used had been too pure for the creature to touch.

Getting up on wobbly legs, he pocketed the wand and carefully approached the now open cell door leading out into the hallway. He knew he only had a couple of minutes before the hurt Dementor would report his actions to the guards, and at that point, he would be swarmed and his plans ruined.

 _I will get out of here_ , he thought to himself as he took off down the dark corridor, his legs nearly faltering under the weight due to their lack of exercise these past years. To Sirius's great surprise, however, there didn't seem to be all that many guards on duty. He had always suspected that Azkaban was being run by a skeleton crew, but this exceeded his expectations.

Weaving his way through seemingly empty hallways and down short staircases, the hope that lingered in his heart grew with every step.

_I will get out of here. I have to get out of here._

And that was when he spotted it. His first real obstacle. Another Dementor was floating down the corridor, coming straight towards him.

Bringing out his wand with surprising speed, he fired off another Expecto Patronum, this one a little weaker than the last, but still powerful enough to drive away the wicked thing. Continuing past it and its wailing cries, he sprinted down the hallway towards the door all the way at the end.

Bursting through it, he took a quick look around to evaluate his new surroundings. He was in what appeared to be a storage room, with rows upon rows of old filing cabinets filling his vision. Sweeping over it all, his gaze quickly locked onto a wall at the far end of the room that had a small window attached to it.

Taking great care to close the door behind him, he slowly approached the wall and its window, standing on his toes so he could get a better look out of it. What he saw was the ocean, stretching out in all directions as far as his eyes could see.

_My way out. Freedom._

Taking a few steps back, Sirius aimed his wand at the seemingly innocent wall, forcing himself to remain calm despite the fact that his little jailbreak attempt could be discovered any second. He had to get out of here as fast as possible, before the guards had a chance of converging on his location.

Shouting out the incantation, Sirius summoned forth the strongest Bombarda exploding charm he had ever cast, the red orb of energy flying directly at the wall, causing it to explode into a million tiny pieces. Small bits of rock and rubble grazed his face as he looked away in a desperate attempt at shielding his eyes from the explosion.

The explosion was, of course, accompanied by a loud bang that resounded throughout Azkaban, no doubt drawing the attention of every guard and Dementor in the nearby vicinity.

But despite all of that, it had worked. Where there had previously been a wall, there was now a huge, gaping hole that lead straight out to freedom.

"Drop that wand right now, prisoner!" a voice suddenly said, causing Sirius's heart to jump in his chest. Turning around, he spotted one of the guards standing in the doorway, his eyes cold and calculating as he stared him down. A cold sweat erupted across Sirius's back as he ever so slowly backed up towards the newly made hole in the wall.

"I'm sorry buddy, but I can't do that. I'm getting out of here, you see," he responded, a small grin creeping its way onto his face. It felt good to smile again.

"You are doing no such thing, Sirius," the guard shouted back, choosing to use his name instead of "prisoner" to make their standoff a little more personal.

"Oh, but I am. Can't you see this hole I just made? That's my way out."

Looking past him, Sirius could swear he saw a hint of fear in the guard's eyes as he spotted the gaping hole that lead out to sea.

"Listen, Sirius," the guard started as he took a small step towards him with his wand outstretched. "You're surrounded, okay? The rest of the guards are heading this way as we speak, and soon enough, we will have you locked down so tight you won't even be able to move. Now, you might have made a hole in our wall, but there's a 50-foot drop separating you and that ocean. There's no way you'll make it out alive that way. But if you surrender yourself to us now, me and the boys will go easy on you, okay?"

Listening to the guard talk, a small idea started forming in Sirius's head, an idea so crazy, so bizarre, that it might just work.

"Ahh, you think that. But I am a Marauder, you see. Getting out of tricky situations is our specialty."

With those final words, Sirius pointed his wand directly at the ground in front of him, and before he had a chance to regret his decision, let out an even stronger Explosion Charm, pushing every little bit of his will and magic into it. The force of the blast was overwhelming, and literally sent him flying out of the hole at what felt like mach 2 speed, out into the open air.

He immediately knew he had just broken both of his legs, and quite possibly ripped a few tendons as well, but he had never felt better. Flying through the air towards the endless sea, he felt free as a bird. Even if he ended up dying now, he would not care, as his mind was, for the first time in ages, truly at peace.

A couple of seconds later, Sirius felt himself fly through the Anti-Apparition wards, and saw the water below closing in as the force that had been pushing him up until now let up, and the wind caught up with him. But that didn't matter now. He was through. The wards couldn't stop him anymore.

Closing his eyes, he let out a small chuckle of happiness as he Apparated away. Sirius Black was, after spending years imprisoned in Azkaban, a free man once again.

* * *

**Slytherin Common Room**

"Unacceptable!" the now furious Third Year student Draco Malfoy shouted out into the Slytherin Common Room as he paced in circles in front of his two sworn bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle. "I won't have it! I won't accept it!"

Said bodyguards sent each other questioning looks as they sat in silence and listened to their Master complain, neither of them quite sure what it was Draco found so "unacceptable". They usually didn't bother themselves with the details and specifics, preferring to work with broader strokes and easier-to-understand concepts such as "go here" and "do that".

"Father said he would deal with Potter, put him in his place, but it has been days! Weeks, even! And nothing has happened! Potter still meanders about like the cocky little brat that he is, and Father is doing nothing!" Lashing out, Draco violently kicked the leather chair next to him in a show of childish petulance.

"He. Said. He. Would. Punish. Him!" he annunciated in-between kicks, making Crabbe and Goyle squirm in their seats. They didn't like it when Draco was mad. He was hard to deal with in that state. Unpredictable and sometimes downright evil.

Then, all of a sudden, the young Malfoy seemed to tense up, before letting out one long, continuous sigh.

"Fine. FINE. If Father can't fix this, I guess I'm going to have do it myself."

Turning around with borderline superhuman speed, he pointed an accusing finger at his two frightened bodyguards.

"You two!" he shouted, making them jump to their feet in surprise.

"Y-Yes, Draco!" they responded in unison, unknowingly straightening their backs and pushing their chins upward.

"We have a job to do!" he continued as he started heading for the door leading out of the Common Room.

"Sure, boss! What kind of job?"

"We are going to punish Harry Potter for ever daring to bring shame upon the Malfoy name!"

* * *

**Ravenclaw Tower**

In a completely different part of the castle, the young witch Hermione Granger was dealing with her own issues.

 _Why does Harry always have to be such an idiot?!_ She thought to herself as she buried her head deep into her pillow, letting out a muffled scream of frustration. _He always makes things so goddamn complicated!_

It had been a couple of hours since their conversation in the Great Hall, but Hermione still hadn't managed to shake the feeling that something very eerie and possibly very dangerous was going on behind her back. And Harry knew she hated it when he kept secrets from her.

_We are supposed to be friends, for Godric's sake, and friends trust each other! They tell each other secrets and share their feelings! So how does he expect our friendship to work when he acts like this all the time?!_

She could feel the tears threatening to burst out any second now, and inwardly cursed herself for always being so weak when it came to these things. Why did she always end up as the one who was crying? Why couldn't Harry cry, at least once? He was always so rational about everything, so cold and manipulative… She didn't even know why she bothered caring about him anymore.

But…

She did care. She did care about him. She treasured their friendship, and didn't want it to end. Why? Why was he so important to her?

_Because he's the only one who's ever been able to outdo you in something._

Hermione already knew the answer, of course. She had known it all along, ever since she first met him during their First Year. Harry was the only one who could rival her. The only one who could challenge her. That's why they worked so well together. They could always push each other further, always pressure one another to do better. They were like two diamonds in the rough, polishing each other's edges due to the constant competition that existed between them. That's also why she felt so… connected… to him. Their brains operated on the same wavelength, in some wicked sense of harmony.

Suddenly, a wave of determination surged through her. She wasn't going to back down now. Oh no no no, if Harry thought she was done with him, he was in for one nasty surprise. Hermione would get to the bottom of this. She would figure out what he was hiding, and use that information to "blackmail" him into telling her more.

Lifting her head from her pillow, she wiped away the tears with one hand and got back up on her feet. She would have to put in some fieldwork if she was planning to outsmart Harry. As much as she hated to admit it, he was one clever little arse. But this time, she was going to make sure she came out on top.

 _For Harry. For our friendship,_ she smiled as she left the bedroom with her newfound sense of purpose radiating through her.

* * *

At the same time, in the opposite end of Ravenclaw Tower, Harry carefully approached his bed with his wand outstretched. Today was the day. He was going to open the book and take a peek at what was inside. Despite every fiber of his being screaming out in protest, his heart was set on this particular course of action. His curiosity had gnawed away at him for days now, and he was tired of not knowing what it was he was dealing with.

He obviously knew that the book was some sort of Dark Artefact. The sheer amount of power radiating from it made that much painstakingly obvious. But what he didn't know, was what type of knowledge it contained. Could it be vivid descriptions of the use of The Unforgivables? He certainly hoped not. That would be boring. Harry already knew how to cast all of those, even if he had never attempted or been inclined to use any of them before. For instance, all that was required to cast The Killing Curse was willpower and killing intent. Simple as that.

 _Those spells really are overrated,_ he couldn't help but think as he got ever closer to the hidden compartment he had placed the book in. _You would think Dark Lords would be a little more inventive than that. Even the Cruciatus Curse is incredibly straightforward and predictable..._

But that was an annoyance for another day. Right now, he needed to stay focused on the task at hand. He only had the simplest idea of what this thing really was, after all, and for all he knew, the darn thing might just rot his hands off or something the second he opened it.

It took some time, but after what felt like years, he finally had the book placed out in front of him on the wooden floor. Its simplistic design really only added to its creepiness, and the voices that usually accompanied it were steadily beginning to rise in the back of his mind. This book was evil, through and through, and Harry could not wait to see what was inside.

With a shaky hand, he placed his fingers on the edge of the leather wrapping and slowly flipped the cover page over.

**TO THE TORMENTED SOULS OF THOSE UNWILLING TO ABIDE BY OTHERS RULES**

The words, written in crooked letters, were the only thing adorning the first real page of the book, but they already had him intrigued. He could easily imagine that he was the first person to read that sentence in a very long time, and the thought of that made him feel strangely giddy on the inside.

_Such cryptic language…_

The voices in his mind had grown eerily silent now, too, as if patiently awaiting for him to flip to the next page. So that was exactly what he did.

The next page was written entirely in a language he did not understand, but instantly recognized to be Latin. Seeing as the words made no sense to him, and he couldn't really be bothered to bring up a dictionary and translate them, he decided to simply skip the page and move on to the next one.

Flipping over, he was instantly greeted by a simple, but grotesque painting of a man vomiting blood into a cauldron, a knife sticking out of his chest. Upon closer inspection, the blood coming out of his mouth appeared to have a slight purple hue to it, as if infused with some type of unknown magic. Next to the painting, there was yet another row of Latin words, obviously describing whatever it was the man was doing in closer detail.

_It's… these are… rituals._

As Harry continued to flip through the pages, he was met with a plethora of different paintings, all displaying the same man engaging in what he could only described as a multitude of varying rituals. One showed the man cutting open a human sacrifice, the unwilling participant chained to the ceiling by his feet and screaming in pain. Another one showed him cutting off his own hand, dropping it into a cauldron with an unnerving smile on his face.

Reading through it, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of nausea bubbling up in his stomach, which was very uncharacteristic for him, seeing as he never usually reacted to human suffering or what others would define as "gruesome" sights. But there was just something unsettling about the paintings, simplistic and almost childlike at times, that just made him feel uncomfortable.

 _I wonder what you gain from performing any of these rituals successfully…?_ He wondered absentmindedly as he closed the book with a satisfying thud, returning it to the hidden compartment underneath his bed.

_No doubt I'd have to translate the text accompanying the paintings if I want to get a clearer picture._

Sitting in silence now, he closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. Researching the old tome had taken a little more of his energy than he had originally anticipated, and for some reason, he felt completely famished. This usually didn't happen to him, who could spend hours pouring over his school books together with Hermione, so for it to happen after mere minutes of reading… It was nonsensical.

_Could it be a side effect of the book itself, perhaps? It drains your energy without your consent, using it to feed its infernal power?_

Despite having gained only a fragment of the information he desired, Harry was determined to continue his research of the book. He had never heard of such a tome before, after all, and had never seen anything even close to it in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library. It was a complete mystery, and Harry loved mysteries.

_Oh well, that's enough dabbling in the Dark Arts for one day… If Dumbledore ever found out about this, I'd probably be expelled on the spot._

And with such entertaining thoughts occupying his mind, Harry headed towards the Great Hall to stave off his newfound hunger.

* * *

**Room of Requirement**

There it was again. That oddity he had felt a couple of days ago. It was back.

Its magical presence was even weaker this time, almost indistinguishable from its surroundings, but it was definitely there. A faint hint of Darkness, of the Timeless Void. Albus did not know why it bothered him so; there were plenty of questionable Artefacts and objects residing within Hogwarts, but something about this particular one set his nerve-endings on fire.

Once again utilizing his sense of direction, he traced its magical signature back to the Ravenclaw Tower. Seeing as its presence was weaker than last time, however, he couldn't accurately narrow down its location to one specific spot. He could only tell that it was somewhere within the Tower.

Albus himself was currently in the Room of Requirement. He had come here to search for Rowena Ravenclaw's long lost Diadem, but as usual, had not been able to find it. The search for it had become somewhat of a pastime activity for him at this point actually, something he was determined to keep toiling away at until he finally found it. Not that he ever would, though. He had a sneaking suspicion the Room itself had decided the item was not for him to find, and as such, hid it from his sight whenever he came to look for it.

Apparating himself to his office, he sat down in his chair with a long sigh, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to chase away the tiredness he was feeling. He had been up all morning to fulfill his duties as the Supreme Mugwump, something that always seemed to take it out of him. Dealing with the baboons of the International Confederation of Wizards was a daunting task, especially so whenever an important case came up. Those always resulted in tedious debates.

And now, with this unknown entity popping up in his castle, yet another thing was added to his steadily growing list of things he probably should do something about, but didn't have the time to deal with. He hadn't even been able to keep a close eye on Harry lately, who was his most ambitious project. Getting the boy to sacrifice himself for the greater good was not going to be easy, after all, especially not if he didn't have anything he felt strongly enough about to protect. Befriending Hermione Granger had been a solid step in the right direction, but the son of Lily and James still had a long way to go before he could be considered even remotely interested in others well-being. As it was now, Albus was absolutely positive Harry could not care less about the future of Magical Britain, which did not exactly bode well for his plans.

For now though, there was frustratingly little Albus could do about that, so he decided to let things run their course, and leave room for meddling later. The boy still had plenty of time before Voldemort could work up enough power and influence to return to life, after all.

The question now though, was what to do with the oddity of Ravenclaw Tower, which appeared to be developing into a permanent issue. Albus certainly could just waltz over there and take a look around, but such an act would probably give rise to suspicion amongst the students living in the Tower, and he did not want to make them think that anything was wrong or out of the ordinary.

 _Sometimes, the role of Headmaster leaves little room for personal investigation,_ he thought to himself as he gently perused over some pieces of parchment that had been placed on his desk. They were nothing more than small curriculum changes, but still required his seal of approval before they could be put into effect.

_I suppose I shall deal with the issue later. Probably much later, knowing my schedule._

* * *

**Gryffindor Common Room**

Ron Weasley let out a shriek of frustration as his King was placed in checkmate for the millionth time that evening. He had been playing against Dean for what felt like an eternity now, and had been thoroughly beaten multiple times throughout that period. Dean was simply much better than he was at chess, but he refused to acknowledge that as he yet again started placing his pieces back on the chessboard.

"I want a rematch!" he snarled as he sent Dean a look filled with poorly veiled hatred. The young Gryffindor sitting opposite of him couldn't help but smile as he nodded in response to Ron's obvious agitation, already certain that he was going to win this round as well. Frustration and logical thinking did not go hand in hand, after all, which already put Ron at a disadvantage.

"Of course. In fact, lets make things a little bit more… interesting…" Dean smiled nefariously as he pulled out a small notebook from the folds of his robes. "10 Galleons says I win."

"Fine!" Ron shouted back, wincing internally at the steep price he had so carelessly agreed to. 10 Galleons was almost an entire month's worth of his pocket money. Ginny would no doubt be mad with him if he lost now.

**A/N: 10 Galleons equals about £49.3 Pound sterling when translated into modern currency.**

"Winner takes it all; loser goes home with an empty wallet."

"Deal!"

And so, the two students turned their attention back to the game, blocking out their surroundings as the round picked up.

…

"Dammit!" Ron wailed whilst furiously slamming his fist against the table, knocking over several chess pieces in his fit of fury. His opponent remained unfazed by this, though, and just carried on pocketing his newly earned Galleons with a broad smile on his face.

"You almost had me there for a second, Ron," he remarked, rising from his seat now that the game had concluded and the rewards had been reaped.

"Whatever… Losing 10 Galleons is no big deal anyways," Ron responded, opting to appear lofty and uncaring instead of furious, which was what he actually was. Ginny was definitely going to kill him.

"Oh, I see. Well, thanks for the game anyways, I had fun," Dean waved back as he headed out of the Common Room, leaving behind a not-so-secretly fuming Ron.

 _I hate that guy,_ he thought to himself as he watched his opponent leave, bending down with a sigh to clean up the mess he had made when he hit the table. _Why do I never seem to get better at chess? I play it all the time for crying out loud!_

"Uhmm… Ron?" A voice suddenly piped up, making him jump in his chair. Turning his vision upwards, he was surprised to see Parvati Patil standing before him.

"Blimey, you scared me Parvati! What do you want?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I… I didn't mean to…" she responded, fixing her gaze on the ground instead of looking him in the eye. "I just came to… to tell you that Draco is looking for you."

_Wait, what?_

"Draco?!" he almost yelled back, his eyebrows shooting up in confusion. "As in Draco Malfoy?"

"Y-Yes… I don't know what he wants, so you're gonna have to ask him yourself…" she continued, turning to leave before she had even finished her sentence. "He's waiting for you outside the Common Room."

"O…Okay…"

Watching Parvati leave, Ron couldn't help but wonder exactly what it was Draco Malfoy could possibly want with him. The two of them usually ended up butting heads every time they encountered one another, so he had no clue why Malfoy would willingly want to speak with him now.

Nonetheless, Ron figured he'd go listen to whatever it was he wanted, and then go get some sleep. He was feeling unusually tired after being so thoroughly beaten by Dean, and could use a good couple of hours of shut-eye.

And sure enough, after leaving the Common Room and asking the portrait of the fat lady to open up, he immediately spotted Draco and his goons standing just outside the Gryffindor chambers with an impatient look on their faces.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron asked, deciding not to leave the opening just in case the boys planned to jump him or something.

"Ugh, finally. You sure took your time," Draco responded, crossing his arms after brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face.

"Yeah, I was busy."

"Figures. Well, I'm going to cut straight to the chase: I need your help."

There was a moment of silence between them before Draco's words registered in his brain.

"You need my whatnow?"

"I need your help."

Another moment of silence came and went, as Ron's mind went into overdrive trying to figure out what the hell was happening.

"What in the seven hells could you possibly need my help for?"

A small smile appeared on Draco's face as he heard Ron's response.

"You know Harry Potter, right?"

* * *

**Norway, Location Unknown**

The wind howled as it blew up tiny clouds of snow amongst the frozen trees of the Norwegian forest. It was winter now, and as such, the weather was brutal and the temperature unforgiving. Anything out here in this abandoned wasteland had long since frozen to ice, trapped in time until the warm summer heat finally came and thawed it back to life.

Despite the bleak outlook, the landscape retained a certain beauty, a type of natural charm one could only find in the middle of an untouched wilderness. All manner of beasts and creatures living side by side in perfect unity, the cycle of life unbroken and never-ending. Predators hunting prey. The strong dominating the weak.

Amongst this snowy wonderland, a lone soul traversed the terrain with relative ease, unaffected by the strong wind and harsh temperature. As of now, the little thing was nothing but a speck of magic, a needle in an otherwise enormous haystack. But soon, it would grow into something so much more. A person. And not just any person. The Dark Lord himself, in fact.

Ever since that night in Godric's Hollow, Voldemort had spent several years drifting around aimlessly as a fragmented piece of soul. He had watched the British Wizarding World forget about him and his rule of terror, and move on as if nothing had ever happened. He had watched his Death Eaters going into hiding, denying any and all connection to him and swearing to become "law-abiding" citizens once again. The cowards had even gone as far as to dissolve their weekly meetings, out of fear of "anyone figuring out their true allegiances".

He had been a fool to place so much trust in them in the first place. Most of them were nothing but second-rate wizards anyway, weak men on a desperate search for power and control. But they were his second-rate wizards. His men. And he would be damned if he was going to stand by and watch from the sidelines as everything he'd ever worked for fell apart and crumbled.

For now, he had to stay hidden, stay amongst the shadows, licking his wounds like a beaten dog. But some day, he would return. He would return, and exact his vengeance upon those who had betrayed him. And most importantly of all, he would kill the boy responsible for destroying his grip on Britain, for daring to interfere with his plans. Harry Potter was going to die by his hand, and until that day, he would not rest.

_Live in fear, Harry. Live in fear._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Before you ask, let me say this: Yes, I did just turn Sirius Black into the human equivalent of a cannonball. No, that is probably not how he escaped Azkaban in the canon version. But I am sticking with it, so deal with it.


	4. Act 1: The Godfather Conundrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.
> 
> WARNING: There are some slight sexual or otherwise adult connotations and references present in this chapter. Nothing major, just thought I'd let you know.

Peeking her head around the corner, Hermione shot a quick look down the corridor, reassuring herself that Harry was indeed heading in the same direction as he had been for the past 5 minutes. Walking with a brisk and determined pace, following him had actually proven to be rather hard, but judging by the route he had taken so far, she had guessed that his destination was the Library, so even if she managed to lose him now, she could still find him again later on.

Hermione had been watching him from the shadows all day, tailing him wherever he went like some sort of clichéd American spy. Her other forays into learning about his secret had so far turned up fruitless, thus why she had resorted to such an old-fashioned way of gaining information.

The original plan had been to search through his personal belongings in the boys' dorm, but that particular course of action had quickly been abandoned due to the door leading in to the boys' private area refusing to open up for someone of a different gender.

The second plan had been to steal some of his notes or schoolbooks whenever he wasn't looking to scan through for clues or hints, but that too had proven to be virtually impossible. Harry never left anything personal behind or out of sight long enough for someone to sneak in, take a look, and then return it. He was awfully meticulous like that.

Her plans ruined twice over, she had ultimately resorted to pretty much just stalking him through the corridors of Hogwarts, secretly hoping for him to go to some obscure location he would otherwise have no business being in.

Taking yet another deep breath to strengthen her resolve, she gently leaned to the side and popped her head out one last time, and saw…

Nobody. She saw nobody. The corridor was empty. He was gone.

Letting out a wail of frustration, she immediately rounded the corner and broke into a sprint down the hallway. How in Godric's name had he been able to disappear like that? He had been here just seconds earlier; there should have been no physical way for him to just vanish like that in such a short amount of time.

As her mind raced to figure out how he had disappeared, Hermione forgot to pay attention to her surroundings, and thus failed to notice that one of the doors lining the side of the wall was indeed not actually fully closed. As she then sprinted past said door, a slender arm burst forth from the small opening, grabbing her and causing a surprised scream to escape her lips as she was pulled into the dark, otherwise empty classroom.

"Mind telling me why you've been shadowing me all day?" a voice suddenly asked, one that she instantly recognized to be Harry's.

"For Godric's sake Harry, you scared the life of out me!" she replied with a whine, trying to step backwards but finding herself incapable of doing so due to him having placed his arms around her waist.

"Well, that's not really my fault now, is it? If you had been paying a little more attention, you probably would have noticed the open door and my trap before you got close enough for me to grab you."

A small blush erupted across her cheeks as she listened to his reply. She had been awfully careless when she decided to rush down the corridor after him. The thought that he might have noticed her, and thus decided to lay a trap for her had never even crossed her mind.

As the initial shock fizzled out, her attention switched from questioning him to something entirely different, namely just how **close** he currently was. His arms snaked around her back, his steady breathing tickling the skin on her neck, his intense green eyes locked onto hers. The otherwise pitch-black room only intensified this feeling of closeness, the darkness acting as a metaphorical and physical wall that blocked out everything else but them. And as much as she hated to admit it, standing so close to him felt good, in some weird way she couldn't really explain.

Over the years, Hermione had never considered herself to be much of a _girly_ character. Whilst other girls her age were usually fawning over guys and spreading gossip, she had dedicated herself entirely to her studies from a relatively young age, and thus "missed out" on a lot of the action that often accompanied school life. That involved everything that had to do with romance and boys.

This was not to say that she was completely "fresh outta the oven" when it came to sexual experience, however. She had, as she suspected most girls and boys her age had, experimented with her body on multiple occasions, even going as far as masturbating to orgasm once, but had not made a habit of it. Being more academically inclined, she mostly chose to spend her time on research and study rather than sexual pleasure, and in doing so, had never even considered the possibility of doing anything vulgar with someone from the opposite gender. In addition, she had never really consider herself to be particularly attractive either, and had usually figured her chances to be rather slim when it came to attracting the attention of possible suitors.

Because of this, having never had a "crush" or boyfriend before, she was wholly unexperienced when it came to dealing with romantic matters, and as such, the simple act of Harry holding her so close triggered something deep inside of her, a desire she did not know she had.

Therefore, before her brain managed to register what was happening and promptly stop her, she acted out of pure instinct, standing up on her toes and planting a small kiss at the corner of his mouth. It was by no means romantic, as rushed and hastily done as it was, but it was definitely a kiss, and her first one at that.

Harry's body immediately froze up, his eyes opening wide in surprise as he stared at the now incredibly embarrassed young witch in front of him. He had always prided himself on his ability to predict most, if not every possible outcome of a situation, and had put a great amount of time and effort into practicing rational thought. Therefore, when Hermione decided to do something as unusual and wholly unexpected as **kissing** him, he had been taken by complete surprise, and as a direct result of this, his ability to think rationally had been momentarily suspended.

"S… sorry…" Hermione blurted out, hiding her now blushing face in her hands.

" _Obliviate!_ "

Harry's casting of the spell happened with such speed and finesse that Hermione's brain had no chance of keeping up with him. One moment he was standing there with his arms wrapped around her back in shock, the next he had taken a step back and was pointing his wand at her. Her pupils dilating and her consciousness rapidly slipping away, Hermione only had time to form a singular thought in her mind before the darkness took her:

_Whaa…_

Then her body went limp, falling into Harry's now outstretched arms.

 _Okay, that might've been a little extreme_ , he thought to himself as he clutched onto his now unconscious friend with surprising strength. Seeing as Harry's decision-making had always heavily relied on rationality, he wasn't exactly the best at dealing with unexpected or illogical events, and Hermione's behavior had elicited something of a knee-jerk reaction from him.

Now that the damage had been done, however, he had an entirely new problem to deal with.

Carrying her unmoving body across the classroom, he gently placed her down with her back against the wall, making sure she would not tip over and fall, before pulling out his wand again to take a better look at it. Unlike apparently most of the students at Hogwarts, Harry already knew about the Trace charm placed on underage wizards' wands by the Ministry. It was, of course, placed there due to the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery that had been around since 1875, and allowed Ministry officials to track the use of underage wizards' magic and what spells they were using. One could compare it to the way the government in most muggle countries spied on its citizens through hefty monitoring of their Internet searches and behavior.

Because of this, soon enough, every last member of the Improper Use of Magic Division would know that some numbskull in Hogwarts just cast a Memory charm on someone, something which (naturally enough) was considered to be a highly dangerous type of magic.

Luckily enough for him, however, he already had a way of circumventing the Trace, but said solution only worked once and was best reserved as a last resort. On top of this, Harry really didn't feel like breaking his wand on this particular day. This feeling came more from the fact that getting a new one would be a tremendous pain in the ass rather than any sort of affection he might have held for the blasted thing, though.

As a somewhat related side note, the common notion that the wand chose the wizard was actually complete and utter hogwash, a made up lie that wandmakers liked to circulate in order to hide the true selection process that took place whenever a wizard first touched a new wand. Wands were objects, and as such, had no real sentience. They couldn't tell apart wizard from wizard and certainly did not harbor any sort of feelings. What really happened when a wizard first picked a wand was that the wand's magic resonated with the wizards' magic, and would produce varying results depending on how compatible the two were. Favorable results would be things like a whirlwind of power erupting around the wizard. Non-favorable results would be explosions, knocking over of objects or other examples of magic running rampant. That was all there was to it.

Back on the topic of avoiding the Trace, Harry had quickly surmised that breaking your wand would also break the charm placed upon it, thus making it impossible for the Ministry to trace said wand and locate it. They would still be able to see where the spell had originally been cast, but would have no way of tracing it back to him seeing as a broken wand was really nothing more than two, completely ordinary sticks. And Harry somehow doubted that they would have enough common sense to do something as Muggle-like as searching for finger-prints.

This, of course, came at the cost of destroying your own magical instrument; something that most wizards would never even dream of doing, but such sentimentality had little effect on him. To him, his wand was little more than a tool, and tools were made to be used and discarded.

Despite all of this, Harry still had no desire to revisit Diagon Alley any time soon, and as such decided not to break his wand, and rather relocate himself to a completely different part of the castle and pray to Merlin that the Ministry was too slow on the uptake to catch up with him. The only way they would know about his use of the _Obliviate_ spell was if they manually checked his wand records, after all, something they usually only did during the summer vacations.

* * *

**Ravenclaw Tower**

"Hrrggg…" Hermione groaned as her brain ever so slowly woke back up to life. Her head throbbing, her mind immediately went into diagnostics-mode, and started running through the memories she had of the past couple of hours. She was quickly surprised to find what appeared to be a missing segment in the otherwise complete chain of events. Opening her eyes, she was yet again surprised at the sight in front of her.

"Wha…?" she muttered as she stared into the unusually calm green eyes of her best friend.

"Yo," Harry responded, backing up to give her some personal space. Shooting a confused look around her, it took her foggy brain a few moments to realize where she was and what position she was in.

"Harry?!" she suddenly screamed and jumped up as she realized that she had been laying with her head in his lap.

"Yes, that is my name," he offered, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Why… why am I… how did I…"

"You fell unconscious during our talk, Hermione. I brought you back to the Ravenclaw Common Room, and laid you to rest in this couch. And seeing as the side effects of the obliviation were about to pass, decided to stay here with you."

"Ahh, okay… I guess that makes se… Wait a minute, obliviation?!" She hadn't meant to shout out that last part, but it just sort of happened as her mind caught up with what he was saying.

"Yes, obliviation. You see, I might have sort of maybe ended up obliviating you earlier by mistake. Sorry 'bout that."

"You did WHAT?"

"I obliviated you."

A moment of silence passed before Hermione's arm suddenly shot out and connected with his stomach, delivering a devastating punch. The force of the blast caught Harry by complete surprise, causing him to double over and wheeze for air.

"You obliviated me?!"

"Yes…" he muttered back weakly, the lack of oxygen making it hard to speak.

"Why in the name of fuck would you do that?!"

"Because I for the first time in my life genuinely panicked and made a hasty decision." Having recovered some of his breath, he was able to give a more coherent answer this time.

"You panicked…?" she asked, her facial expression switching to resemble that of a question mark.

"Yes, I panicked. I know, I'm not very proud of it either…" he continued, shaking his head in disbelief. "I mean, I'm supposed to be the rational one, right? I don't make mistakes like that."

"Well, I suppose it is only human to mess up sometimes… Actually, no, wait a minute! What reason could you possibly have had to just obliviate me out of the blue like that?"

"Ehrm…" he started, his mind racing to come up with a suitable enough explanation. "It's… well… let's just say that something incredibly awkward and out-of-character happened, and the only way of surviving the Cringe Fallout was to obliviate you."

"Cringe Fallout…?" she muttered in response, desperately trying to remember something, anything from the past couple of hours.

"Yes, Cringe Fallout. Trust me; it really is for the best. I remember what happened and I kinda want to Obliviate myself because of it, to be honest"

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Hermione shook her head before seemingly giving up on the matter, and finally getting up from the couch.

"Okay, you know what? I'll trust you. If it was that bad that you felt the need to Obliviate me then I would rather not remember it at all. But if you ever decide to pull something like that again…"

The ice in her voice made it painstakingly clear to Harry what would happen then, and he could do nothing but nod as she walked away, inwardly letting out a relieved sigh at his own luck.

_Godric I really dodged a bullet there, didn't I?_

"Ahem…"

The firm voice cut through the now stagnant silence like a warm knife, immediately drawing his attention. Standing just a couple of meters away was Professor McGonagall, regarding him with a calculating look.

"Oh, Professor, I didn't see you there," he said, standing up and walking over to her.

"Mr. Potter, the Headmaster has requested your presence for a meeting in his office. If you would please be so kind as to follow me…" Not even waiting for his reply, the old witch spun around on her heels and headed for the door, gesturing for him to come.

_Ahh, fucking sublime. Just what in the world could the old meddler possibly want now?_

* * *

** Headmaster's Office **

"Harry! Just the man I wanted to see!" Dumbledore smiled, the ever-present twinkle in his eye glinting annoyingly at Harry as he walked through the large wooden door leading in to the Headmaster's office.

"Headmaster," Harry replied as he stopped in front of his desk, his face an expressionless mask. Dumbledore usually never called for him unless it was to reveal yet another piece of earth-shattering information that he probably should've known about ages ago, so Harry sort of knew what to expect at this point.

Unfazed by the obvious luke-warm response, Albus gestured for him to take a seat before proceeding to pull out what appeared to be the day's issue of The Daily Prophet.

"Harry, we've known each other for a long time now, and during all that time I believe we have developed a rather good relationship," he started, flipping over the pages as he talked. "And I hope you know that I have come to care a great deal about you."

_Yeah, right._

"Oh, you don't say?" Harry replied, his voice perfectly even and betraying none of his true emotions.

"Therefore, I want you to take what I am about to tell you very seriously, as it poses a very real threat to both you and your friend," the Headmaster continued, lifting his head from the newspaper to look at him.

Harry's eyed narrowed ever so slightly at that. Something threatening him was one thing; he was The-Boy-Who-Lived after all, there was probably no shortage of people out to get him. But something threatening Hermione?

"And what would this threat be?" he probed, being careful not to let anything slip through his calm façade.

"Have you been paying attention to the news lately, Harry?" Dumbledore suddenly asked, the question seemingly coming out of nowhere.

"Uhm… No? Well, I do make it a point to stay at least somewhat up to date on what happens in the world, but I don't believe I've checked up on things outside of Hogwarts in quite a while," he responded, looking at the Headmaster in confusion.

"Well then I take it that you haven't heard about the break out from Azkaban, have you?"

… _Someone broke out of Azkaban? I thought that was supposed to be impossible…_

"No, I can't say I have. What break out?"

Directing his gaze down at the now open newspaper in front of him, Dumbledore gently showed it across the desk towards Harry, gesturing for him to take a look at it. Leaning over, he immediately noticed the title written in big, bold letters:

**ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN**

_Yesterday, at around 9 am, personnel working at Azkaban reported to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that a break out from Solitary Confinement had occurred. The escapee is apparently none other than Sirius Black himself – quite possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban Fortress._

_The madman, sentenced to life in prison due to mass murder with the Blasting Curse, is now at large, and has so far managed to elude capture. Anyone who knows anything about the man's current whereabouts are required to contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement immediately. Any attempt at aiding or hiding the fugitive will be seen as a criminal offence in the eyes of the law, with the offender risking 5 years in prison due to obstruction of justice._

"Huh…" Harry breathed after finishing the article. "That's… certainly interesting. But I fail to see just how this affects me, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore stared at him with a contemplating look for what felt like ages, before finally letting out a small sigh and answering his question:

"Sirius Black is your Godfather, Harry."

"…"

There was a long moment of silence between them then, with Harry's brain going into overdrive at the thought of what this particular piece of information meant.

"Sirius Black… the wanted mass murderer… is my Godfather?" he asked, still keeping his face neutral despite the enormous struggle currently raging on inside his head.

"Yes, Harry. Sirius Black is your Godfather," the Headmaster nodded solemnly, using one hand to gently stroke his beard. "And he is also the reason why Voldemort managed to find you that night so many years ago."

This time, Harry didn't quite manage to keep his emotions from surfacing.

"He's… he's WHAT?"

"You see, after your parents went into hiding, they decided to have the location of their home permanently hidden from sight through the use of a Fidelius Charm…" Dumbledore started, only to be interrupted by Harry shortly into his explanation.

"Sirius was the Secret Keeper, wasn't he?"

"…"

"Well? Tell me. He was the Secret Keeper, right? And he betrayed them to Voldemort? It's only logical," Harry droned, trying his best to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't let the old man see that he was flustered. Albus Dumbledore was a very powerful man, and you didn't get to be powerful unless you knew how to control the people around you. The fact that Harry was upset right now, and thus vulnerable, was something that could easily be used against him.

"Yes, Harry. He informed Voldemort of your parents location, allowing the Dark Lord to find their home in Godric's Hollow and kill them both. He would have killed you too, if not for the incredible love and sacrifice of your mother," the old man continued, his eyes carefully gauging Harry's reaction as he talked. The boy was good, he would have to admit that much. Most other students would have fallen for his grandfatherly act a long time ago and immediately opened up to him, but Harry was different. He was… cold. Cynical. Calculating.

"Sirius's betrayal surprised all of us greatly. He and James had been friends ever since their first day here at Hogwarts. They were always together, pulling pranks and getting up to mischief. None of us expected him to eventually turn against his best friend like he did." The sorrow and grief in Dumbledore's voice was so heartfelt, so pure that it almost sounded genuine. Almost.

"So Sirius betrayed my father just like that? Despite their friendship and history together?" Harry asked, a hint of confusion entering his voice. "That doesn't seem very… logical."

"Yes, as I said, it took us all by surprise. We never would have expected the young man to give up his best friend so easily. I imagine that, faced with certain death in the form of Lord Voldemort, his resolve weakened, and he decided to use your parents as a bargaining chip in order to keep his life."

Returning to silence, Harry absentmindedly stared at the wooden desk in front of him. He had never known or even met Sirius Black personally, but from the way the Headmaster described him, he didn't sound like much of a bad guy, and certainly not the type to rat out his best friend just because the odds were stacked against him.

"Why did the Department of Magical Law Enforcement arrest Sirius, again? In the article, it said that he committed mass murder by the use of the Blasting Curse. Why would he do such a thing right after betraying my parents? Wouldn't that just draw more attention to him? He could've easily gotten away with just telling Lord Voldemort about my parents location. Very few would have managed to track that down back to him, after all."

"Ahh, yes, I forgot to mention that. Right after betraying your parents, Sirius decided to chase down another member of your parents' group, Peter Pettigrew, and attempt to take his life. After a long battle, he finally succeeded in doing so by casting the Blasting Curse in the middle of a busy street, killing Pettigrew and 12 other innocent bystanders in the process. The DMLE arrested him shortly afterwards and he was quickly sent to Azkaban to serve a life sentence there."

Another moment of silence came and went, before Harry yet again opened his mouth to ask a question.

"My parents were killed on Halloween, the 31st of October 1981, right Headmaster?"

Not really seeing where Harry was going with this, Dumbledore simply nodded and fixed him with a questioning look.

"And on which day did the DMLE arrest Sirius again? On November the 1st?"

Another nod.

"And he was sent to Azkaban on the 2nd?"

"Yes."

"Hmm…"

The boy went silent again, obviously stuck in deep thought. Taking a moment to consider the implications of the information the boy had just asked for, Albus finally began to see what it was Harry was getting at.

Putting on a dissatisfied frown, he shook his head before opening his mouth speak.

"Whilst those dates are true, you shouldn't think too far down those roads, Harry. There is no way Sirius Black is innocent. I personally participated in the investigations, and can with absolute certainty say that he is guilty of the crimes committed. There is no other way to explain how James and Lily Potter died and how Peter Pettigrew went missing. They even found a piece of poor Peter's body in the aftermath of the explosion! A finger that had been blown off by the Blasting Charm, if my memory serves me well."

His attempts at persuasion, however, was met with nothing but silence from the boy. He appeared to be completely disregarding anything and everything Dumbledore had to say at this point, as lost in thought and speculation as he was.

 _This is bad_ , the Headmaster secretly thought to himself. _It wouldn't do any good for Harry to learn of the truth behind the failed Fidelius. Sirius has to take the blame, otherwise the entire façade comes crashing down. And after all my work…_

"Harry, my boy, please tell me you will leave this matter alone? It could be very dangerous for you to involve yourself with this any further. Sirius is still out there, after all, and Godric knows he might be coming for you next," Albus continued, switching back to his "disappointed grandfather" voice. "Promise me you will stay out of this."

Finally, the young boy looked up at him again, but his eyes were even more cold and chilling than usual this time.

"Of course, Headmaster. I _promise_ I'll stay out of trouble," he answered, his voice perfectly monotone.

"Then that is all I will ask of you. You may return to your dorm now. Good day, Harry, and may you sleep well."

"You too, Headmaster," he replied as he gracefully got up from his seat and started moving towards the door. A cough from behind made him stop and turn around again.

"Yes?"

"Do watch out for young Miss Granger though, Harry. It truly would be terrible for something to happen to her."

_Did that old bastard just threaten me?_

"I will, Headmaster. She is my friend, after all."

Turning around for the last time, he left the office and started heading back towards the Tower, thoughts of his Godfather occupying his mind. Something wasn't right here, and Harry was going to get to the bottom of it. He just had to figure something out first.

* * *

**DADA Class**

"Settle down, settle down!" their teacher Remus Lupin shouted out into the chaotic classroom, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "For Godric's sake, you people are almost as bad as I was at your age! Settle. Down!"

The chaos continued for a little while longer, before Harry's fellow classmates finally returned to their seats, and directed their attention towards the now satisfied DADA teacher. A wave of silence flooded the room, the lack of sound nearly as deafening as the racket had been. After a long pause, Remus finally nodded and opened his mouth to speak.

"As most of you are probably aware, it is Halloween today, and as such, today's class will be a little… special…" He let the sentence trail off for a bit of dramatic flair, before turning around to face the cupboard that had been meticulously placed in the middle of the room. "This cupboard here houses one of the nastiest little buggers out there, known as a Boggart."

A couple of stifled gasps came from the classroom, no doubt belonging to students who knew about the creature from before.

"Yes, yes, you are right to be surprised. A Boggart is classified as an amortal shape-shifting non-being that takes on the form of the viewer's worst fear. Because of this shape-shifting, nobody really knows what a Boggart looks like in its original form."

Remus took the overwhelming silence that filled the room as a sign to continue.

"The Boggart sitting within the darkness of this cupboard has yet to assume a form, as he does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. But when I let him out, he will immediately become what each of us fears the most."

This time, a lone hand raised itself from amongst the stunned students, catching Remus's attention.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Sorry Professor, I just have a question; is it possible to trick the Boggart by pretending to fear something that you don't?"

"Ahh, an excellent question. No, Miss Granger, to my knowledge, that is not possible. You see, the Boggart carries the ability to directly read your true fears and shift to resemble it accordingly. Attempting to trick it will not have any effect."

Nodding, she brought her hand back down and put on a speculative look, staring at the cupboard with newfound interest.

"Now, that is not to say that there are no ways of defending oneself from the Boggart's attacks. There exists a simple spell called Riddikulus that forces the creature to assume a form humorous to the caster, thereby counteracting the Boggart's ability to terrorize. Casting of this spell, however, requires the caster to first acknowledge what they fear the most, and then visualize it into something funny. Due to the initial horror of facing one's deepest fears, this can be more challenging than it sounds."

This time, there were no questions, as everyone was busy imagining what their worst fears would look like in a humorous form. The grin on his face widening, Remus searched through his students for someone suitable enough to be used as a test subject.

"Mr. Weasley, if you would please stand up and approach the cupboard."

The ginger-haired boy visibly recoiled at the mention of his name, his eyes darting across the classroom in nervous jitters, but he stood up nonetheless. Watching him approach the cupboard, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the boy, seeing him walk with shaky legs and fear coloring his every feature.

"Calm down, Mr. Weasley. The Boggart aims to scare its victim, not maim or injure. I can assure you, you are perfectly safe regardless of which form the creature takes."

Nodding ever so slightly at that, Ron visibly strengthened his resolve and lifted up his wand, taking a moment before signaling to the Professor that he was ready.

As soon as the door swung open, a loud swooshing sound filled the classroom, before disappearing almost as rapidly. A couple of seconds went by, and suddenly, out of the darkness of the cupboard, a massive jet-black Acromantula climbed. The room was immediately plunged into deep silence as everyone turned their attention towards the horrible creature. Even Harry had trouble remaining calm as he stared at the monstrosity in front of him, the small part of his brain still being rational recalling that Acromantulas were a species of giant spiders native to the rainforests of Southeast Asia, particularly Borneo where they inhabited dense jungles. This specific one appeared to be even bigger than most, though, as it regarded its new surroundings with its eight eyes and hissed out warnings.

Ron, as perhaps expected, had completely frozen still in horror, his eyes wide open and filled with fear.

"Now is not the time to freeze, Ron! Act now, before you lose your resolve and falter! Cast the Riddikulus spell!"

The voice of the Professor broke through the silence and brought the students back to their senses. And before the Acromantula even had a chance to react, the young Weasley had lifted his wand with surprising speed and shouted out the incantation in a panicked voice.

For a moment, nothing happened. And then suddenly, the enormous critter found itself with roller skates attached to all of its feet. With its point of balance drastically shifted, the spider could do nothing as it fell to the floor in a pathetic heap, screeching wildly as it did so. The classroom quickly broke out into laughter as everyone watched the amusing spectacle unfold in front of them, and the mood instantly lightened. Harry could've sworn he even saw Ron flash a grin.

"Magnificent! Great performance, Mr. Weasley! Now, who wants to go next?" Remus laughed as he turned to his students yet again.

The laughter ebbing out, everyone started lining up in front of the cupboard, most of them nervous but eager to face their deepest fears.

"You ready for this?" Harry whispered to Hermione as they got up from their seats to join the rapidly growing line.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess," she replied, shaking her head in exasperation. She really wasn't looking forward to this.

…

Some time passed, with each student getting to test their mettle against their inner darkness. There turned out to be a lot of rational fears amongst the crowd, with things like big bugs, Dark Lords and disappointed parents being the most common ones. At last, it was Hermione's turn to face the Boggart.

"Don't worry, you've got this," Harry reassured her, putting on a comforting smile as he patted her shoulder in a show of support.

"Yeah, yeah… I know."

Slowly approaching the cupboard, she took one last deep breath to calm her nerves, before raising her wand and nodding to the Professor.

As usual, the swooshing sound reappeared as soon as Remus opened the door, but the Boggart quickly managed to read Hermione's worst fear and transition into the correct form. A collective gasp went up amongst the students as they saw what the creature had transformed into.

Lying on the ground directly in front of the cupboard were two bloody corpses, beaten and malformed beyond recognition save for the occasional tuft of brown hair. Their limbs had been twisted around and their skulls caved in, the result of what could only have been an incredibly brutal death. It was a gruesome sight, enough to disturb even the Professor, as Harry absentmindedly noticed him taking a shocked step backwards, genuine fear and disgust flashing across his face.

The Professor wasn't Harry's main focus at the moment though. His eyes were firmly locked on Hermione, watching as the young witch fell to her knees in front of the brutalized corpses of what he vaguely recognized to be her parents.

"N… N… No…" his friend muttered, a hint of desperation creeping in amongst the hollowness of her voice. "Dad…? Mom…?"

Throughout his three years at Hogwarts, Harry had seen his fair share of sadness and suffering. Having grown accustomed to it at a very young age, there wasn't a whole lot that could really affect him or make him feel anything anymore. But seeing his best friend slumped down in front of the cold, lifeless corpses of her own parents broke something inside of him. It awoke a feeling in him that he hadn't felt in a very long time. Genuine compassion.

Suddenly, a powerful wave of hatred and rage washed over him, blotting out all trace of rational thought. How dared the Boggart do such a thing to his friend? To make her feel suffering like this?

His eyes flickering a deep shade of emerald, Harry immediately drew his wand and shouted out the required incantation, channeling all of his rage and frustration into the spell. The effects were instant, deadly and satisfying. The Boggart seemed to fold in on itself as the magical orb of energy hit it, letting out a scream of agony before disappearing completely, leaving behind nothing but a spec of dust in its place.

With the illusion of her dead parents gone, Hermione resorted to simply staring at the spot where they had been, a watery sheen starting to form over her eyes. Before long, she had tears streaking down her face, hitting the ground beneath her with soft thuds.

After the wave of anger dissipated, Harry wasted no time in rushing to his friends' side, enveloping her in a powerful hug. Normally, doing such a thing would've been completely out-of-character for him, but right now he honestly didn't care. What mattered now was being there for his friend.

Shooting the Professor a predatory look, he snarled and shouted out in an angry voice; "Why didn't you stop it?!"

"I… I…" Remus simply stuttered back, staring at the couple with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

"You saw her reaction! The way she broke down! She was defenseless against that thing! Why didn't you help her?"

"I'm sorry, I… I panicked, and…"

"Not good enough, Professor. It is your job to protect your students, and you failed to do that today. I won't forget this."

"Harry, please…"

But Harry had already diverted his attention back to Hermione, completely ignoring the Professor's pleas for forgiveness. He was irrelevant at this point. What Harry had to do now was help his friend.

"Hermione…" he whispered in her ear, tightening the hug and using one hand to swipe a stray lock of hair out of her face. "We're leaving."

"H… Harry…?" she replied, her voice weak and raspy. "Where… did my parents go…?"

"They weren't real, Hermione. What you saw wasn't real. You have to listen to me now, okay? Can you do that? I need you to stand up and walk to the door. Otherwise I'm going to have to carry you."

"You… you need to take her to Madam Pomfrey!" Ron suddenly piped up, a scared look plastered on his face.

"No, I don't. Just shut up and let me handle this, okay?"

"Harry… Where are my parents?"

"I told you Hermione, they weren't real. Your parents are safe at home, don't worry about them. Come here now."

Having decided it would be simpler to just carry her back to the dormitory, Harry slowly got up on his feet and took a firm grip behind Hermione's back and under her legs, lifting her up into his arms, as one would do with a child. Making no effort to resist him, Hermione responded by pushing her face into his robes and letting out a small sob.

"I take it class is dismissed?" Harry said, his eyes hard and uncaring as he turned to face the Professor again.

"Y… yes… Class is dismissed…"

Nodding, Harry swung on his heels and headed out of the classroom, a sobbing Hermione pushed up against his chest.

* * *

**Ravenclaw Tower**

Opening the door to the girls' dorm, Harry was relieved to find the room dark and empty, with no other girls present. Even he could understand that sneaking in here with Hermione in his arms like this might've looked rather suspicious to those who did not know what had happened.

Striding over to her bed, he gently placed her down and let out an internal sigh of satisfaction as his arms were freed of the strain once again. Carrying Hermione had been a hell of a lot tougher than it looked, and he inwardly decided that he would start exercising regularly from this point on to build up some proper muscle. It wouldn't do to be so weak and out of shape when Voldemort came running for his ass, after all.

"Harry…?" his friend suddenly muttered, making him lean down so he could hear her better.

"Yes?"

"Thank you… for that. I feel a lot better now."

"No problem, Hermione. You scared me there for a second, you know. I thought you'd properly lost your mind."

Despite her condition, she managed to force out a small chuckle and bump him playfully in the shoulder.

"Lose my mind? Like I would ever do something like that. I need my brain to study and read books, after all."

"Oh yes, god forbid something coming in the way of you and reading."

They both shared a laugh at that, before the silence returned and consumed them yet again. Harry wasn't usually one to complain about lack of conversation, as he found small talk to be incredibly tedious and pointless, but this time, he couldn't help but miss it as he gradually started feeling more and more uncomfortable. He had gotten Hermione safely to her room, but now what? Was he supposed to just leave her here alone?

"Harry, I… I was wondering if…"

"Yes?"

Despite the darkness, he could already see the hints of a blush spreading across Hermione's cheeks before she opened her mouth to finish her question.

"I was wondering if you'd… stay a while… with me…" She let the sentence trail off as her eyes drifted off towards the ground, obviously too embarrassed to look directly at him. Even Harry himself couldn't help but blush as the implications of her words reached his mind.

"Stay… to comfort you, right?" he asked, offering her a metaphorical lifeline to save her from more embarrassment.

"Yes, yes! Of course! To comfort me!"

"Yeah, I mean… sure. I can do that."

Settling down on the bed next to her, he laid still for a couple of seconds before awkwardly placing an arm around her neck and pulling her into a soft hug. Despite his highly rational mind, Harry still didn't have a lot of experience with women, and as such, felt incredibly awkward doing something like this. But he understood that it meant a lot to Hermione, and he couldn't exactly say that the prospect of cuddling with a girl had no appeal to it.

And so they stayed like that for a while, with Hermione resting her head comfortably against his chest, feeling his breath ruffle her hair every few seconds. She knew they technically had more classes to attend and places to be, and didn't actually have the time to lay around like this, but for the first time in her life, she really couldn't bring herself to care. Because in that moment, despite the awkwardness, despite her confused feelings, Hermione felt closer to her friend than ever before.

And even Harry, who normally paid no attention to such things, gradually starting thinking that maybe the idea of being friends with Hermione Granger wasn't so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The thing with Hermione kissing Harry was more of an "act of impulse" rather than anything done out of genuine love, by the way, in case you didn't catch that. I do think it is quite obvious that she has feelings for him at this point, but I'm not trying to rush anything here, seeing as I want to maintain a believable timeline and sense of progression.


	5. Act 1: Mudblood In Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**Malfoy Manor**

Lucius Malfoy was edging closer and closer to having a nervous breakdown. It had been over two weeks since the boy was supposed to have received his "gift" now, and so far, nothing had happened. No rumors of Dark Magic spreading throughout the school, no missing students, no trace of nefarious or otherwise illegal rituals, not even as much as a dead house elf. Nothing noteworthy at all had happened, and it was killing him.

Lucius's first thought had been that he had misunderstood his opponent. Judging from Draco's descriptions of him, the Potter boy was apparently a very inquisitive type of person, who loved research and knowledge more than anything else. Therefore, it had only been logical for Lucius to assume that the boy would jump at an opportunity to learn about something that no other man could teach him. The knowledge contained within Daemonis Magicka could certainly not be found anywhere else, and that alone should have been enough to entice Potter into reading the blasted thing, but apparently, that had not been the case. Either Potter had realized that something felt very, very **off** with that book and decided to leave it alone, or he had simply had enough common sense in him to understand that accepting packages sent to him by complete strangers was probably a very bad idea. Either alternative would be favorable for him, but bad for Lucius. He needed Potter to read that book, and, hopefully, attempt the rituals detailed on its pages.

 _I need to contact Draco again_ , he thought to himself as he hurried out of his bedroom, making sure to bring with him a fresh piece of parchment to write on. _I need to have him monitor Harry at every possible opportunity, to see if the boy has changed or been altered by the Dark. He needs to die, he has to die, he must die!_

Rushing to his study, he plopped down in his chair and started writing at breakneck speed, jotting down instructions for his son to follow. It only took him a couple of minutes to fill out the entirety of the parchment, and as he reread it to make sure there were no errors in his spelling, he couldn't help but feel a surge of teenage-like excitement wash over him. If his plan actually worked, if the boy actually did what he so desperately hoped he would do, then the Dark Lord would reward him with riches and power beyond his wildest dreams. Those who served Lord Voldemort and did his bidding always got something in return. And if Lucius managed to do something as big as kill his arch nemesis for him, then he was sure he would be rewarded more handsomely than any other Death Eater before him.

But if he failed, however… if Potter somehow came out stronger from all of this… well, Lucius didn't even want to think about that possibility. He feared suicide would be his best option at that point.

_No matter. Nobody stands against the Darkness forever, Harry Potter. Light always falters in the end. Hope always dies. You will fall eventually. You will fall._

* * *

**Transfiguration Class**

Meanwhile, in a completely different part of the country, Harry Potter was stuck in Transfiguration Class, sighing internally to himself as he rested his head against his desk. Professor McGonagall was currently busy teaching them how to Transfigure a block of wood into a miniature bookshelf, something that Harry had long since covered and learned about during his own private study lessons in the library. It hadn't been too hard for him to get the formula right, resulting in a successful Transfiguration on his third attempt.

To be blatantly honest, when it came to Transfiguration as a whole, the workings behind it were in fact rather simple. Of course, like many aspects of the wizarding world, it completely broke the laws of thermodynamics and seemingly spat on what most people would consider common sense, but it was still an inherently easy thing to learn about. Anyone could technically Transfigure something if they tried hard enough, which, to be fair, was odd in its own right. You would think that modifying the very core of a being or items' existence should be an at least somewhat complicated process, but Mother Nature seemed content with letting just about any random wizard do so if they felt like it. The statement " _Magic makes the impossible, possible_ " had never been a better fit.

At the end of the day, however, it didn't really matter to Harry. Sure, the idea of toying with the fabric of reality certainly did sound intriguing, but despite this, Harry wasn't a very huge fan of Transfiguration. He just found it to be a rather… ordinary form of magic. It was too commonplace. Too widespread to be anything special. Which in turn only made the fact that he wasn't very good at it even more annoying.

 _Literally everyone and their grandmothers can do Transfiguration, yet I always seem to mess it up_ , he thought to himself, a hint of frustration seeping in to his mind. _Sure, I'm better at it than most, but I'm definitely not as good as Hermione, or even Neville. And when even Neville's better than me…_

His daydreaming was cut short by what sounded like a miniature explosion coming from his right. Turning his head to see what was causing the ruckus, he was not surprised to see Anthony Goldstein covered in what appeared to be soot, with a shocked expression on his face.

"Mr. Goldstein! If you would please be so kind as to tell us what in the seven hells just happened?!" Professor McGonagall hollered, her eyes hard as stone as they furiously regarded the thoroughly confused young man.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Professor, I… I just wanted to…" Anthony frantically stammered, desperately searching for the right words needed to form a coherent sentence.

"You just wanted to what, Mr. Goldstein? Transfigure the piece of wood into a working bomb, perhaps? Create a little distraction in the middle of my class?" McGonagall looked about ready to devour the poor boy, and even Harry felt a cold chill run down his spine as he saw the fire in her eyes.

"No! Godric, no! Nothing like that, Professor! I just… I needed some…"

The rest of the class waited in dead silence as Anthony continued his struggle with the English language, before finally managing to find the right words.

"I wanted to see if I could Transfigure the piece of wood into… into steroids, Professor."

Harry's self-control nearly gave out as he heard the young boy's answer, his will the only thing stopping him from bursting out into laughter. He had expected the answer to be stupid, but **this** stupid? It was almost too good to be true.

"S… steroids? What in the world would you use those for?" McGonagall muttered, a look of complete and utter shock coloring her features.

"You see, I've been… I've been hitting the gym lately, trying to work up some muscle… but it just isn't working, I'm not getting any bigger… so I thought… perhaps steroids would help me…"

Harry couldn't hold it any longer. He burst out into heartfelt laughter, shaking his head in disbelief at the surreal situation he found himself in. This dude had just tried to use MAGIC to transfigure a fucking block of wood into a performance-enhancing drug, just so he wouldn't have to pay for it. The entire thing was about as wise as unplugging your dying grandpa's life support to charge your Game Boy.

The rest of the class soon joined in, and before long, everyone was laughing, with even Professor McGonagall struggling to maintain her composure. Anthony, on the other hand, looked about ready to jump out of a window and die of shame, his face beet red with embarrassment.

"Okay… okay…" Harry wheezed after finally regaining control of his laughter. "First off, Anthony… what do you think would've happened when the Transfiguration wore off?"

This gave the young boy some pause, and Harry could practically see the gears turning in his head.

"Well… I mean, by then the steroids would've been broken down and taken up by my bloodstream… but…"

"Exactly, you don't know," Harry cut in, nodding his head as if to confirm his suspicions. "Heck, even I don't know! Imagine what would happen when all of those tiny, broken-down particles tried to take on their original form again. Needless to say, I don't think it would be too good for your circulatory system."

"Actually…" Hermione piped up, "What is most likely happen is that…"

"Not the point, Hermione," Harry smiled, gesturing towards Anthony with a wave of his hand. "The end result is still the same, namely a Dead Anthony."

The room quieted down somewhat after that, and the lesson went on as normal, with Harry returning to his carefree daydreaming, albeit in a better mood than before. And so content was he, in fact, that he almost didn't notice it when the class ended, and somehow managed to just barely miss seeing Malfoy and his two goons stalking off after Hermione.

* * *

**Dungeon Corridor**

Hermione had always hated the Hogwarts Dungeons. The underbelly of the massive stone castle was always so cold, so silent, so completely void of life that it made her feel depressed every time she came down here. The sound of her own footsteps reverberating throughout the empty corridors only added to that feeling of loneliness and isolation.

 _Why in the seven hells does the Potions classroom have to be in such a creepy place,_ she thought to herself, mumbling under her breath as she headed towards the next lesson of the day. After walking for a couple of minutes, she arrived at her destination, only to be met by a solid, stone wall instead of a door.

_Ahh, you have got to be kidding me…_

To her great frustration, it seemed like the very castle of Hogwarts itself had decided that today was a great day for practical jokes, and as such, had decided to shift around the locations of the rooms a little bit. This was by far the thing she hated the most about the damn school, its apparent sense of humor. She already knew where the Potions classroom had most likely wandered off to, of course, but that was on the other end of the Dungeons, which meant another 3 minute walk.

But just as she was about to turn around and start backtracking, a sudden rush of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, which in turn caused her to stop. And before she even had a chance to react, a male voice cut through the silence, making her yelp in surprise.

"Deprimo!"

As soon as the incantation had been invoked, Hermione felt what could only be described as an immense pressure weighing down on her body, forcing her to strain every fiber of muscle she had in an effort to remain standing. It didn't take long, though, before the pressure became too much for her legs to bear, and they gave out, making her fall to the floor in a painful, pathetic heap.

But yet, despite having given up the struggle, the weight didn't disappear. In fact, it only seemed to intensify, crushing her frail body against the cold stone tiles with tremendous force. The pain that accompanied it was overwhelming, all-consuming, and she barely had enough resistance left in her to let out one choked scream of agony before the last bits of oxygen disappeared from her lungs.

Prying her eyes upwards in one final, desperate attempt at calling for help, she managed to catch one last glimpse of blonde-colored hair before her consciousness faded away, and she blacked out.

* * *

Draco Malfoy stared in disgust at the pitiful mudblood in front of him, a strong urge to spit on her welling up in his chest. Giving out after only 15 seconds of suffering under the Deprimo spell? Laughable. Downright embarrassing. He himself could easily withstand 30, maybe even 40 seconds before starting to panic. It had been one of the first things his Father had taught him. How to endure torture, how to fight back and not give in. Obviously, this mudblood had not received the same training.

Gesturing for Crabbe and Goyle to grab her, he stood back and watched as they lifted up the unconscious body of Hermione Granger, a tiny stream of blood dripping from her nostrils. Such a shame, really. Draco honestly did believe he could think of better ways to spend his time than wasting it on a sub-human like this. But oh well. Potter had forced his hand with the insult in the library, so something had to be done in order to teach the arrogant prick not to mess with the Malfoy family. Hurting his closest and only friend should surely do the trick.

Watching her get pulled along by her hair, he followed as his bodyguards dragged the mudblood into a nearby vacant classroom, and locked the door with a quick charm. Whilst they started clearing out some tables to form a circle, he found a semi-comfortable chair to sit in, and proceeded to watch the necessary preparation work unfold in front of him.

Now that he had a better chance to really take a good look, he could perhaps admit that the mudblood wasn't all that ugly, at least not appearance-wise. Her blood and family status certainly was, but despite her bushy hair and overly "nerdy" look, she wasn't all that appalling to look at.

 _Maybe she'd make for a good whore, if trained properly,_ he thought to himself as Crabbe lifted up a chair and placed it in the middle of the now empty clearing. _Although Father would certainly not approve, it's not like I'd be marrying the bitch. I'd just be fucking her, putting her in her place._

With the preparations finished, he cracked his knuckles as his bodyguards grabbed the unconscious girl, and started tying her with magically conjured rope to the chair. Only once they were sure she couldn't break free, did they stop conjuring more rope.

"Alright boss, we're done," Goyle droned, gesturing towards the firmly tied-up girl in front of him.

"Well okay? Don't just fucking stand there, wake her up!" he shot back, shaking his head at the stupidity of his minions. Draco had always known that his obedient vassals weren't exactly the brightest students at Hogwarts, but sometimes their mental retardation surprised even him.

"O… of course, boss! Aguamenti!"

A small jet of ice-cold water shot out of Goyle's outstretched wand as he channeled the spell, hitting the unconscious mudblood straight in the face. Needless to say, it didn't take long before she started to wake from her slumber, opening her mouth to draw a deep, almost panicked breath. Draco watched on with a look of complete indifference as she gradually became more and more aware of her surroundings, her eyebrows shooting up in fear once she noticed him and his entourage, and how tightly tied up she was.

"Ahh finally, the mudblood graces us with her presence. What a pleasure."

"Pleasure's all mine," Hermione replied with a smile, the legitimacy of which was only betrayed by the ice in her voice.

"I bet it is. Now, do you have any idea what's about to happen to you?" Draco continued, unfazed by her fake bravery.

"Vaguely, yes. Three guys surrounding a lone, tied-up girl in an otherwise empty room? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were planning on raping me." Despite her harsh, judgmental tone of voice, Draco could see that she was beginning to freak out, beginning to panic.

_Good. I want to see you break._

"Not a bad guess, although you aren't quite right. We aren't going to rape you, just hurt you more than anyone else ever has," he nodded, a small smile starting to creep its way onto his face. Oh, he was **so** going to enjoy this.

"Aww, how noble of you… But are you sure you don't want to fuck me? Make me scream your name, beg for more. Make me plead: "oh Draco, I'm so _wet_ for you…" she teased, a hint of desperation creeping into her words. To anyone else listening, the fact that she was practically begging them to rape her might sound completely bizarre, but Hermione knew that she had never been good with physical suffering. She knew that if they started torturing her for real, it would be ten times worse than rape. In her mind, the damage caused by being violated mostly affected the psychological part of her body, not the physical one. She could deal with that. She could deal with the shame and the self-loathing. But if they scarred her real body, if they caused her real, intense, physical pain? She would break. She knew she would break.

Sadly, Draco had also managed to figure out that much.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid we're not going to be doing that today. Although, if you want to drop by for another round later on, we wouldn't say no," Draco replied with a grin, his eyes flickering with a combination of lust and greed. Despite his reassurances that he wasn't going to rape her, he couldn't stop the slight twitch in his groin at the thought of dominating her right then and there. But Father had taught him better than that. His pride simply wouldn't let him do it.

"Now, it's about time we get this party started…"

Stepping back, Draco gave room for Crabbe to do his thing, and sat back to watch with a gleeful expression on his face. Seeing someone he loathed getting punished was definitely amongst his top five favorite pastimes. His smile only widened when Crabbe's fist connected with Hermione's face, drawing blood and causing her to let out a muffled groan. Psychological torture was all well and good, but usually, you had to get physical if you wanted to get the best reactions from your victims.

As Crabbe continued landing blow after blow, Hermione's groans gradually grew in strength, before finally erupting into downright screaming. She was bleeding heavily now, blood gushing from her nose and mouth. It was nothing some quick healing charms couldn't fix, but that was the entire point of the beating. They had to patch her up afterwards, so she wouldn't have any visual evidence to use against them once she inevitably came crying to the Professors like the little bitch she was.

Giving her one last, more powerful jab to knock her out, Crabbe took a step back to admire his work. The floor was covered in blood splatter and Hermione's robes were completely drenched. A quick look was all Draco needed to understand that it wouldn't do for anyone to find her in such a state, so the evidence had to be destroyed.

A couple of Episkeys and Tergeos later, and the girl was looking as good as new. Her wounds had been closed and all traces of blood had been removed. Her blood-stained robes had been incinerated, and the chairs rearranged back to their original position. Nobody would suspect a thing. Only Draco, his posse and Hermione would know the truth.

There was only one problem left to deal with now. Incinerating the young witches' robes had left her in nothing but her undergarments, and even Draco could see the obvious implications that hinted at. A half-naked girl surrounded by four of the school's most notorious boys? Yeah, that one would've certainly been hard to explain.

"What are we gonna do, boss?" Goyle asked, gesturing towards the still unconscious body of Hermione Granger.

"Shut up, I'm thinking…" Draco replied, stroking his chin in a speculative manner with one hand. "I suppose we could just leave her here… but that would arguably create more problems than it would solve…"

A moment of silence passed then, as Draco thought long and hard about how they were going to solve this.

"Ahh fuck it, we'll just leave it to Potter. Crabbe!"

"Yes, sir!" The slightly overweight boy immediately stood at attention, eager to do his masters' bidding.

"Go tell the Potter brat where he can find his friend. Oh, and be sure to give him my regards whilst you're at it."

"Yes, Draco!"

Watching his minion rush off to find Potter, a smile ghosted across Draco's lips. He had done something good today. He had sent a message. This would teach that imprudent little shit not to mess with the Malfoy family. He only wished he could remain as a fly on the wall to see his arch-nemesis' reaction once he found his friend unconscious on the ground.

* * *

_Motherfucker._

Harry was pissed. Really, really pissed. He should have known something was up. Hermione hadn't shown up for class, and she never missed a single lecture. What's more, both Draco and his goons had been missing too, which should have been a surefire sign that his friend was in trouble. And surprise surprise, just after Potions class ended, Crabbe had appeared out of nowhere and approached him to tell him that Hermione had "been involved in an accident", and that he could find her in the furthermost corridor of the Hogwarts Dungeons.

_If they hurt her… I swear to every nonexistent God there is, those fuckers will regret the day they were born…_

Despite thinking this, though, the majority of Harry's anger was still directed mostly towards himself. He had been too absorbed in dodging Snape's bullshit to truly notice that something was wrong. If only he had been paying a little more attention to his surroundings…

Rushing down the hallways, he finally arrived at the place where Hermione was supposed to be. He quickly came to a grinding halt.

Time slowed down as his vision honed in on the unconscious, half-naked body of his friend lying on the cold stone floor, a metaphorical bomb going off in his mind.

A multitude of things happened at this point. Every glimmer of rationality he might have had left in his thought process disappeared. The world around him seemed to fade out of existence, as his entire being locked its focus solely on the barely breathing figure in front of him. A kill-switch was flipped, a switch that terminated his connections with his feelings. And only a single thought remained in his head, shining brighter than a beacon of pure light in an otherwise empty void:

_Draco Malfoy will die._

_Draco. Malfoy. Will. Die._

_He will die._

_He shall die._

_He will die._

_He will die. Hewilldiehewilldiehewilldie…_

The American novelist James A. Baldwin once said: "The most dangerous creation of any society is the man who has nothing left to lose". Applied to this particular situation, this exact statement would turn out to be a whole lot more accurate than most could've perhaps predicted. You see, by removing the "middle man" and going directly after Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy had made a grave mistake. He had neglected to consider just how close Harry already was to falling over the edge.

Years of accumulated physical and psychological trauma suddenly reached a tipping point. Something had to give. And in this case, the existence one would usually classify as Harry Potter was the thing that gave.

In an instant, Harry ceased to be. In his place, the Obscurus appeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: From this point onwards, each chapter will aim to be around this long. No more 8000 word monstrosities. Those take way too much time to write, and are not as easily digestible as 4000-5000 word chapters. I hope this isn't too big of a deal.


	6. Act 1: The Obscurus Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**Hogwarts Hallway**

Professor McGonagall was already well on her way towards Dumbledore's office by the time the first shock wave struck. At first, it started out as nothing more than weak vibrations, barely noticeable as they ran through the ground she walked upon. But then, they started magnifying in size, until the violent tremors of magical energy reverberated throughout the whole building with intense power, shaking the school of Hogwarts to its very foundations. A series of surprised shouts and screams echoed down the hallway, notifying the Deputy Headmistress that she was indeed not the only one feeling the sudden effects of a vicious onslaught of suppressed magic.

The tremors continued for some time, before stopping just as abruptly as they had started. One moment they were there, the next they were gone with no trace. It was as if someone had flipped a metaphorical off-switch, instantly causing the vibrations to stop. Hastily getting back to her feet, McGonagall raced down the corridors leading to the Headmaster's Office.

 _Just what in the seven hells…_ she thought to herself as she passed groups of students standing around with confused and scared looks on their faces. Many of them had lost their balance and fallen over during the initial wave, and as such were busy trying to pick up their dropped textbooks and scattered pieces of parchment.

Just as McGonagall was rushing past them, yet another shock wave pulsed through the school, causing the ground to quake yet again and small sprinkles of dust to float down from the ceiling. The tremors caught the Professor by complete surprise, and she lost her footing and fell down in a painful heap on the cold, stone floor.

_What in Merlin's name is going on here?!_

Just as she was getting back up on her feet for a second time that afternoon, she spotted the Headmaster rushing down the hallway towards her.

"Albus!" she shouted out, using one hand to support herself against the wall in case another earthquake decided to try to knock her over again.

"Minerva! Come with me, quickly! We don't have a lot of time!" he replied, sending her a quick but firm nod before turning to face the wall.

"What are you talking about? What is happening?!"

"Something is causing large amounts of magical energy to run rampant through our school," he started, pausing in-between breaths to press what appeared to be completely ordinary slabs of stone in the wall with his index finger. "And we need to figure out just what that "something" is."

"But… but… How are we supposed to find the epicenter of all this? The sheer amount of magical power is overwhelming, I… narrowing it down to one specific location is going to be nigh impossible!"

The Headmaster simply grunted in response, and stood back, apparently finished with… whatever it was he was doing.

Just as Professor McGonagall's patience ran out, and she was going to ask him what in Godric's name he was doing tapping the stone like that, the wall in front of the Headmaster seemed to fold in on itself, opening up to reveal a long, narrow corridor going straight forwards through the concrete.

"After me, if you would," Albus chimed, striding with clear determination into the dark hallway. Minerva could do nothing but nod as she followed him in, jumping ever so slightly as the wall closed behind her again.

"What… is this, Albus?" she asked, struggling to keep up with the old man's brisk pace.

"This is a shortcut, Minerva. I thought you would be able to discern as much yourself."

"Yes, I understood that part, but this "shortcut" does not appear on any map of the castle I've ever seen…"

"Oh my dear Minerva, I thought you'd worked here long enough to know this by now. Hogwarts is, and has always been, full of mysteries. The castle has a will of its own. A heart of stone, filled to the brim with the magical residue left after countless spells and other such things. Its secrets are there to be revealed to anyone looking hard enough."

McGonagall could practically hear the twinkle in his eyes as he said that. It annoyed her more than she would ever admit.

"But enough chitchat, we are almost there…"

A couple of minutes later, the duo emerged from the wall in a completely different part of castle, now standing directly outside of the door leading in to the Ravenclaw common room.

Minerva couldn't help but gasp as she noticed the devastation that surrounded them. Huge blocks of stone and granite had been scattered around the hallway, seemingly ripped out from the walls and floor. All of the paintings covering the walls had sustained extensive damage, with large rifts and cuts ruining their rustic beauty. A crooked fissure trailed its way across the large wooden door that lead in to the common room, as if someone had taken a butcher's knife and carved it into the woodwork.

"What in the world…" she breathed, her eyes wide in shock.

"It appears that whatever is causing all of this, passed through here…" Dumbledore mumbled, bending over to inspect a broken piece of rubble on the ground.

"Albus… I… I don't…"

"It's fine, Minerva. Calm down. I understand that you are confused, and I don't blame you for that. I hardly have a clear picture of what is going on myself. But right now, we have to focus. Something… evil… is running rampant in our school. We quite frankly don't have the time to stand around second-guessing everything. Our students are in danger."

Normally, such words would hardly have an effect on a person that was indeed having a panic attack, but absurdly enough, Dumbledore's semi-speech actually worked on her. She could feel her mind clearing up, and her lungs beginning to work properly again. The shock and uncertainty of the situation seemed to ebb off, leaving her feeling hollow, but at the same time oddly motivated.

"O… okay. I will trust you on this, Albus. Tell me what you need me to do."

Sending her a weak, but heartfelt smile in response, the Headmaster started explaining his plan for dealing with the situation to her.

* * *

**?**

"Harry", or whatever wicked thing he now was, flew down the hallways with intense speed, ripping apart anything in its path. His normal body had dissolved into a thick, smoke-like substance that seemed to reshape its structural form every couple of seconds, like a cloud in constant movement. His thoughts… weren't really thoughts anymore, at least not in any traditional sense of the word. Whatever memories and human connections the wizard known as Harry Potter had had before transforming, were long gone now, replaced only by an overwhelming feeling of sadness and anger. He wanted to destroy. To lash out. To decimate. To obliterate.

To kill.

He sought destruction, craved it like a newborn baby craves milk. He felt betrayed, abandoned and deceived all at the same time. The crushing pain of being rejected by something you loved more than yourself. The world and everything it brought was nothing but an obstacle now. Something that had to be torn down.

The feeling of absolute power was overwhelming. Nothing could stand in his way. He was everlasting, timeless and eternal. His hatred could never be tamed. His carnage could never be stopped.

At the center of it all, feeding the beast of malice with the energy it needed, stood his animosity of one singular individual: Draco Malfoy.

Just the thought of his name alone infuriated the Obscurus, causing its destructive powers to grow even fiercer. That pathetic excuse of a human being didn't deserve to live. Every breath that worm took was a waste of oxygen.

As the Obscurus worked its way down the corridors, it came upon a single person trapped underneath a fallen wedge of stone. The squirming figure seemed to be bleeding heavily from a wound across its back, the blood gushing out coloring the stone underneath a deep shade of crimson. A brief flash of recognition lit up inside the Obscurus, before disappearing just as quickly. The student was Blaise Zabini, a Third Year Slytherin that usually didn't talk or say much at all. Now, though, the boy seemed downright petrified, staring up at the creature in front of him with a look of pure, unadulterated horror on his face. It was the look of a man who wanted to live, who wanted nothing more than to get out of this nightmare and see his family and friends again.

Harry Potter would not have wanted to kill him. The Obscurus didn't care.

Passing over him, the dark mass let out a shriek of satisfaction as it felt the boy being ripped apart inside of it, chunks of flesh, skin and blood mixing with its own smoky substance. Soon enough, not a trace of the poor Slytherin remained, except for a large bloodstain outlining the contours of where his body used to lay.

Blaise Zabini was no longer of this world. And the Obscurus continued on.

* * *

**Gryffindor Common Room**

Ron Weasley let out a wail of panic as he felt the building beginning to shake once again, the tremors louder and more violent this time. All around him, students were clinging on to furniture and leaning up against walls as shivers shook the ground with vicious force.

During his years at Hogwarts, Ron had seen and experienced his fair share of oddities. He had sat through the lessons of the wicked Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Quirinus Quirrell, survived the petrification spree of the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, and stood face to face with Dementors. But never had he imagined he'd see a day when the entirety of the school would be shook to its core by magically-induced earthquakes.

He secretly wondered if coming back to Hogwarts next year was such a good idea after all.

Suddenly, the portrait of the Fat Lady leading out to the hallway flew open, and in came Professor McGonagall, somehow managing to stay upright despite the massive tremors. She had a stern look on her face, and clutched a wounded girl in her arms. It didn't take long before Ron recognized who it was.

It was Ginny.

Letting out a howl of anguish, he completely forgot about his own fear, and abandoned his hiding place underneath the table to rush to his sister's aid.

"What happened to her?!" he near screamed once he came close enough to grab his unconscious sister by the shoulders.

"I found her laying in the hallway like this. It looks like she was hit in the head by a falling rock, if the bleeding is anything to go by."

Now that Ron had a chance to take a closer look, he noticed that there were streaks of crimson running down Ginny's head, rendering her already fiery red hair wet with blood.

"Well?! We've got to do something! Cast a healing spell or something!"

"If you would just calm down, Mr. Weasley, I was just getting to that."

Dumping the unmoving body of Ginny Weasley into a nearby recliner, McGonagall whipped out her wand and pointed it towards the unconscious girl.

" _Ferula!_ "

Feeling her magic channeling through the wand, she watched as it streamed towards the injury on the student's head, meticulously closing the wound and leaving nothing but a small scar behind.

Exhausted, she cast a quick " _Tergeo_ " to remove the rest of the blood and almost fell down into the luckily placed sofa right behind her.

"Ahh… what a day…"

"Are… are you okay, Professor?" a scared-looking First Year by the name of Miranda Penbrooke asked.

"Yes, yes, I am quite fine… I'm just a tad bit exhausted, you see…"

She was definitely not going to tell them about the four **other** students she had also had to stop and heal on her way to the common room. No need to cause any more panic than what was already present.

"Can you tell us what is going on out there, Professor?" Dean Thomas frowned, looking out towards the now open portrait-door of the Fat Lady. "We haven't been told anything apart from "stay in your dorms" ever since these tremors started!"

"I…"

Minerva was surprised to find herself seriously considering whether or not to tell the students about the Headmaster's suspicions. After all, it wasn't as if they wouldn't find out on their own soon enough… In the end, though, her inner Professor won the debate. The Headmaster had explicitly told her NOT to tell anyone about it, so she guessed it was better if it remained secret, at least for now.

"We think there might be some sort of natural phenomenon occurring somewhere directly beneath Hogwarts. An earthquake, to be more precise."

She could instantly tell that the students weren't buying it, but she offered no further explanation. It was up to the Headmaster to decide whether or not he wanted to tell everyone the full truth. Until then, the secret would be safe with her.

_Godric, I hope you know what you are doing, Albus…_

* * *

Hermione Granger's head hurt. It hurt bad. Everything around her was a jumble of distorted shapes and colors, her mind struggling to make sense of what her eyes were seeing. Upon attempting to stand up, she found the room to be spinning wildly, and felt a strong urge to throw up creeping its way up her chest. She promptly sat back down again.

It took her a few minutes to regain her normal eyesight, and another two to get her head to stop spinning. Once it did, however, she looked around with confusion at her surroundings, surprised to find herself sitting on the floor in the lower regions of the Hogwarts Dungeons. She had no recollection of going here, her memory a confusing mess of random scenes from the past few days.

_How in the world did I end up down here? And why am I so cold?_

Looking down at herself, she was beyond shocked to find her usual school attire missing, leaving her in nothing but her undies. Instantly wrapping her arms around her chest in an attempt to preserve some modesty, she looked around to see if she could spot her wand somewhere. Transfigured clothes usually didn't feel all that great to wear, but they were definitely better than no clothes at all, and she was starting to develop a shiver from the chilly temperature.

To her great misery, however, she couldn't seem to find it anywhere.

_Great. Cold, half-naked and alone on a stone floor in the Hogwarts Dungeons with a missing wand. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it sounds like a bad hangover story._

Slowly getting up on her feet, she was relieved to find that the headaches were mostly gone now, and she was able to remain standing for more than a couple of seconds without feeling an incessant need to barf.

That's when she noticed the carnage that surrounded her.

There were huge scrapes across the walls, cleaved into the rock by something that had to be of monstrous size. A small puddle of what appeared to be a black and oily substance rested in the far corner, with a couple of footprints clearly outlined in the middle of it. Shooting a quick look down the corridor, she noticed that the destruction seemed to continue on further down, with bits and pieces of stone and other construction materials scattered about in small piles.

_What the actual…_

Hermione was starting to feel the opening hints of a panic attack welling up in her core, and quickly fought to regain control of her emotions. It wouldn't do to break down now, not here, and definitely not dressed like this.

On shaky legs, she started on the long walk back to her dorm, confused, scared and alone.

* * *

**Malfoy Manor**

Sitting in his study, Lucius Malfoy suddenly felt a slight shiver creep its way down his spine. The shudder had come out of nowhere, seemingly unprovoked.

 _Huh… Must've been the wind_ , he thought to himself, returning to his documents.

* * *

**Streets of London**

Sirius Black dashed down the abandoned alleyways of southeast London, the echo of his footsteps only cancelled out by the occasional car passing by on one of the main roads just ahead. He had been on the run for days now, dodging Aurors and muggle police officers left, right and center. He was a wanted man, after all, and there were quite a few out there that were not affiliated with law enforcement who specialized in capturing men like him to deliver to the correct authorities.

His original plan had been to head straight for Grimmauld Place, the Black family's ancestral home, but he had quickly remembered that too many of the members of the Order of the Phoenix knew about the location, and decided it unsafe to visit. Many of his old friends still believed him to be a traitor, so he couldn't risk showing up at a place they probably expected him to go to.

 _What would you have done in my situation, James…_ he silently wondered to himself as he stopped to catch a quick breather outside of a neglected and broken-down diner. The memory of his best friend caused painful emotions to tug at his heartstrings, and he immediately removed all trace of James Potter from his mind. He had to keep a clear head from this point on if he hoped to survive the week. Plus, he had already mourned the loss of his friends for long enough in his cell at Azkaban as it was. No need to bring that with him to the outside.

The crisp air burned in his throat as he gulped down breath after breath, slowly but surely regaining his stamina. Sirius had always hated London. Something about the dank, grimy town just made his nose wrinkle, and put him in a bad mood. It was nothing like the wide-open fields and vast forests that surrounded Hogwarts. Godric, he really missed that place.

 _I have to keep moving. If I stop, they will catch up to me_.

That was the mentality he had been living by the last couple of weeks. It was probably the reason he was still alive and not locked up in some miserable holding cell underneath the Ministry.

_I'll get through this. For Lily. For James._

_For my godson._

* * *

**Slytherin Common Room**

_Damn that two-faced rat…_ Draco thought to himself as he clutched the edge of the table with such force it made his knuckles turn white. _He never told us Potter was going to go totally fucking ballistic if we messed with his mudblood friend._

Thinking back to his meeting with the Gryffindor scum outside of their common room, he couldn't help but snicker as he recalled the shocked expression on the ginger's face once they told him about their plan. The young "lion" had been close to pissing himself just at the mention of someone getting beat up.

_No spine… no integrity._

It was funny, really, almost ironic, seeing as Ron was the one who had told them to go after Hermione in the first place.

" _You don't want to go after Harry directly… He'll just brush you off or make something weird happen with his magic… But if you do something to Hermione instead… I bet he'd take that just as personally."_

Yeah, well, turns out he had taken it a little TOO personally. After cleaning up the mess they made with Granger, Draco and his duo of vassals had just been about to ascend the staircase leading up to the main floor when they had felt the explosion of power going off right behind them. There was no doubt in their minds of what had happened: Harry had found Hermione's unconscious body.

_Fuck. Fuck! If Harry finds us here, we're done for._

Despite his superiority, Draco knew when he was outmatched. There was no way he could measure up to Potter in terms of raw magical power. The boy would destroy him.

 _A good tactician knows when to retreat_ , he rationalized, trying to calm himself down as he let go of the table, and headed for his dorm. _Nobody is going to blame me if I just go home for a while, especially not after what happened today. They'll likely cancel classes for the next few days anyways, to deal with the reparation of the school._

_And who knows, if we're really lucky, maybe Potter will be dragged kicking and screaming to Azkaban for what he has done here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The next chapter will serve as the conclusion to Harry's little "Obscurus outburst". FOR NOW, at least. You'll have to wait and see what I mean by that.


	7. Act 1: Reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.
> 
> WARNING: Mature themes are present in this chapter. Reader discretion is advised.

**?**

The Obscurus was growing tired. It had destroyed mercilessly, fed on the blood of an innocent and tore apart the walls of the school. The devastation was reaching an end, the source of its magical energy almost exhausted. "Harry" would soon have no magic left to give, no anger left to harness.

Now, it had been reduced to floating down the corridors without purpose, without goal. Its lust to ravage was all but sated, its will to destroy used up. It had no reason to exist any longer. It had served its function.

With a final roar of wind and tremble of power, the Obscurus dissolved.

The smoky substance that had once carried with it great magical intensity retreated, seemingly vanishing into thin air, leaving behind nothing but the frail body of one terrified Harry Potter.

* * *

**Hogwarts Corridors**

Hermione had been walking for a solid ten minutes before she noticed it. The tremors had stopped. The vibrations of magical energy that had previously filled the air were gone. The school was dead silent once more.

At first, she couldn't quite believe it. Expecting the shockwaves to resume at any second, she pressed herself up against the wall, desperately hoping nobody would come this way and spot her half-naked, trembling body.

But the waves never came.

When it became obvious that the nightmare was over, she fell to her knees and started sobbing. She couldn't help herself; the tears just came on their own, flowing out of her like an endless stream. The sobs forced their way up her throat, spasms raking through her body with each one exiting her mouth.

Hermione had never felt so alone.

She stayed like that for a while, crying for no reason in particular. She didn't even know **why** she cried, only that it made her feel better. When she could finally cry no more, she whimpered instead.

And that's when she heard it. A howl of sorrow that did not belong to her. Another person was crying somewhere, not too far from her. She couldn't see anyone, but they had to be close.

Getting up on shaky legs, she wiped away her tears as best she could, before continuing down the hallway. Maybe the person was injured, or in need of help.

Rounding a corner, she finally spotted the owner of the cries. The person appeared to be a boy, huddled over next to the wall, his body shivering like crazy. It wasn't before she moved closer that she recognized who it was. It was Harry.

"H… Harry…?" she whispered, her voice coming out coarse and rough. The boy instantly stopped sobbing, his entire posture tensing up.

"W… who are… who is it?"

"It's me, Harry! It's… Hermione…"

"Hermione…?"

As he slowly turned around, Hermione let out a gasp of surprise upon noticing the state he was in. His clothes were tattered and ripped apart, his eyes red, his skin pale.

"Harry, what… what has happened to you?" she asked, reaching out a hand to touch him. He immediately shirked back, as if her touch would somehow hurt him.

"I… I don't know… One moment I was there, the next…"

She could see that he was confused, that he was scared. It made her feel sick to her stomach. Harry was never like this. He was always levelheaded and cool. Seeing him so upset, so… anxious… terrified her.

"You… you are hurt," he commented, his eyes tracing her figure. Under different circumstances, she might have felt a bit embarrassed by that. Now, she couldn't have cared less.

"No, it's… nothing serious. Only minor injuries. You look far worse than I do."

"That's… probably true…"

"Harry, what happened to you? You have to tell me…"

He recoiled slightly at that, his eyes shifting to stare at the ground instead.

"I… I will. But not here. We have to get away from this part of the castle…"

"Why?"

"I'll… I'll tell you later. Just come with me, please?" he pleaded, his voice strained.

"… Okay. Okay… But promise you'll tell me."

"I promise, now please just come…"

The couple started walking down the corridor, a deafening silence filling the air between them. It was painful. Hermione was scared, confused and unsure of herself. Nothing seemed to make any sense anymore.

Not a single word was said before a couple of minutes later, when Harry finally broke the silence to lead her into an empty classroom.

"Here."

She followed him in, closing the door behind her with a heavy thud. The classroom was dark, but Harry didn't seem to care. He sat down on one of the empty chairs with a sigh, shifting around so he could face her.

"Okay, we're here now. Time for you to explain all of this," she started, using her right hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face.

"I will. But first, you should probably… transfigure yourself some robes or something. It's… kind of distracting, to be honest."

She saw his eyes fall to her breasts, his face twisting into an awkward grimace. This time, she did blush.

"Well, I would if I could! But I've… lost my wand…"

"You can borrow mine."

Pulling out his own wand, Harry leaned forwards so she could grab it. A minute later, Hermione was no longer half-naked, her slender body now covered by black robes.

"Thanks…" she murmured as she gave it back to him.

"No problem."

"Now, explain."

Letting out yet another sigh, Harry took a moment to rub his sore eyes before continuing to speak.

"You remember how I told you about my… condition? About the Obscurus theory I had?"

She nodded, already realizing where the conversation was headed.

"Yeah, well… turns out I was right. I do have an Obscurus growing inside of me; have had for a long time, actually… And today… it got out."

Despite already knowing what he was going to say, she still couldn't quite hold in a gasp as she heard him utter those words. So Harry had been the one responsible for the earthquakes… for all of the destruction.

"I know…" he muttered, his eyes shifting awkwardly around the room to avoid looking at her. "It's bad. It's… really bad."

"Harry, I…" she started, but he interrupted her.

"Stop. I already know what you're going to say. You are going to say it wasn't my fault, that I shouldn't blame myself for this. Just… don't, Hermione. There is no one else to blame. I'm the guilty party here. This is my fault."

She felt her heart breaking as he talked. She had never heard him speak so… sincerely… before. It was obvious that he was in pain. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his words, read it in his body language.

"I lost control. When I found you in the Dungeons… I couldn't contain it anymore. It felt so good to just… let go. To let it all out."

His hands were twitching now, his voice beginning to crack.

"I was so… **angry** , Hermione. I wanted to kill them. Punish them for what they did to you."

"What they did… to me…?" she whispered, desperately trying to remember anything at all from before she woke up on the floor. It was all a blurry mess to her.

"Yeah. Crabbe came and told me that you had been involved in an… accident…" he nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. "It was obvious from the moment I saw you that they had done something to you. Why else would you be lying unconscious and half-naked on the ground? I thought they had… I thought they had raped you. Abused you."

Hermione could feel the color draining from her face, her eyes widening in shock. Had Malfoy and his goons actually… raped her? She tried to feel if she could sense any pain coming from that… area… of her body, but her results came up normal. If someone had forcefully pushed themselves inside of her, she probably would have still been able to feel at least some pain. For now, it seemed her virginity remained intact.

"I…" she started, her mind racing to keep up with everything Harry was saying to her. "I don't think they… did anything like that… I don't feel any pain… down there… at least." Talking about it made her feel incredibly awkward, and it was obvious that it was having the same effect on Harry.

"Oh… well… I guess that's good…"

"Yeah…"

An awkward silence filled the room then, before Hermione broke it again a couple of seconds later.

"So… all of that… destruction… all of that chaos… it was you? Your Obscurus?"

"I… I think so. I can't remember too clearly, but I definitely remember feeling angry. So very angry. I wanted to… destroy… everything. And everyone. It didn't matter who, or what."

His words sent shivers down her spine. She was just about to reach out to touch him when he spoke again.

"Hermione, I… I think I killed someone."

Her entire body froze as he said that, her thoughts coming to a complete stop.

_Harry killed someone?_

The more she thought about it, the more bizarre it sounded. Harry, her best friend for the past two years, had killed someone? Ended someone else's life?

"W…" she started, her voice petering out before she could finish the sentence.

"Who?" Harry continued, asking the question for her. She nodded.

"I… I think it was a Slytherin… I can't remember his name though."

"A… Slytherin?"

"Yeah. Same Year as us. Dark skin, short black hair. Sticks to himself most of the time, usually doesn't say much."

" **Stuck** to himself," she corrected, her tone hollow, her facial expression gloomy. She could see that her words hurt him, made him feel even worse about himself.

"I… I suppose you're right…"

He went back to being silent after that, staring at the ground with an unreadable expression on his face. Hermione couldn't tell what he was thinking, what was going through his mind. She wanted to cry again, but had an inkling she wouldn't be able to, even if she tried.

"How… how are we going to fix this?" she breathed, not really believing they could.

"I don't know. I don't know if anyone else knows that I'm the one who's responsible. The Ministry's trace is only placed on our wands, and I never used mine, so they probably won't be able to trace it back to me, at least not yet. Dumbledore, on the other hand…"

"You think Dumbledore knows?"

"No, not really, but you can never be too sure with that man. He seems to know a whole lot more than he lets on."

"…"

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. She had always gotten the impression that Dumbledore was like a loving grandfather, always looking after his children. She could never imagine him doing anything nefarious to anyone, least of all towards Harry.

"Hermione…" Harry suddenly said, his words interrupting her thoughts. She lifted her head to look at him. "I'm sorry. I really am. I never meant for this to happen. Any of it. I know I'm usually a little cold and uncaring, but… but this is way out of line. I need to… I need to be controlled. Supervised. Maybe it's for the best if I just turn myself in to the Professors…"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before Hermione rushed over to him, enveloping him in a tight hug.

"No…" she whimpered, burying her face in his shoulder. "No…"

"H… Hermione?" he answered, his mind running in circles, his hands unsure if they should hug her back or not.

"Don't… don't do that. They'll take you away, send you to the Ministry. I don't want that…"

Harry finally laid his arms around her torso, pushing her closer, hugging her tightly.

"Okay… if you say so. I won't do it."

"Thank you," she whispered back, a lone shudder making its way through her body.

* * *

**Headmaster's Office**

"This is a disaster!" Severus Snape boomed, violently waving his arms around in a fit of anger. "A complete, utter disaster!"

"Calm down, Severus…" Dumbledore answered, the ever-present twinkle glinting somberly in his eyes. "As representatives of Hogwarts, it is our jobs to remain calm, even in the face of danger. Getting worked up won't help us with that in the slightest."

"Calm down?! With all due respect, Headmaster, I see no reason to _calm down_! The school is in ruins, the students scared out of their minds! Many of them are hurt as well, with Madam Pomfrey already working at maximum capacity! Something must be done!"

"We know," Minerva McGonagall sighed, dusting off her robes as she leaned against the wall. "We know something must be done. That's why we're here."

"Do we have any idea as to what caused the destruction?" Remus Lupin shot in, looking at the Headmaster for answers.

"Not currently, no. Our initial search turned up no results, but I can assure you, we will not stop looking until we have found the guilty party."

"That could take ages! The Ministry will want answers, and so will the student's parents. We don't have time to indulge in some headless goose chase that could take months!"

"Severus… that's enough. We share your worries, and will do our best to solve them. But I will not have you frighten the rest of the staff with pointless fear mongering. There is always a solution; you just have to look hard enough for it."

Dumbledore could see that his words had little to no impact on the aggravated Potions Master, but at least they stopped him from talking any more on the subject. That would have to do for now.

"Now, as for the rest of you: we need to start gathering clues. Something caused this. We need to find out what, who or why. For the safety of our students, and the good name of Hogwarts.

The rest of the Professors all nodded their heads, before leaving the office one by one. Well, all of them except for one.

"Yes, Severus?"

The black-haired man waited for the last Professor to close the door behind him before he continued talking.

"Albus, I fear you do not understand the full severity of the situation. The Dark Lord... is still out there. What we witnessed here today might have been his work. The boy… he could be in danger."

"Do you doubt me, old friend?" Dumbledore chuckled in response, walking over to where Fawkes sat perched on his desk. The majestic creature lifted its beak to look at Albus, before letting out a soothing trill that filled the room with an unusual warmth.

"No, I don't. But I do believe you fail to see just how vital this could be. Have you at least made certain that the boy is unharmed?"

"Of course. He is safe, Severus. I know you care for Lily's son, and I would not be so unwise as to let him out of my sight."

"Good. That's at least a start."

"Yes, it indeed is. Trust me, Severus, when I say we shall find the underlying cause of all this. I swear it to you."

The Potions Master just grumbled in response.

* * *

**Hogwarts Grounds**

The cool winter air burned in Harry's throat as he walked along the gravel path leading back to the castle. He had been visiting Hagrid again, the half-giant one of his only other friends apart from Hermione. He valued the man's opinion, despite being what some might consider a simpleton. He was one of the only adults Harry felt like he could trust.

The snow crunched underneath Harry's shoes as he continued on his walk. It was late December now, which meant that Christmas had finally arrived at Hogwarts. Most of the students were in a rather festive mood, despite what had happened only a few weeks back. Christmas decorations covered the school grounds, transforming the bleak castle into a beacon of light that lit up the night sky. It was a good time, a happy time, and something they all needed after… the incident.

The past couple of weeks had been tough. Dumbledore had held multiple speeches in the Great Hall, trying to calm everyone down. He told them that an unidentified creature had infiltrated Hogwarts and wreaked havoc in a fit of primal rage. He also told them the creature had been taken care of, and would not return.

Both Harry and Hermione knew that was a lie.

He had gone on to warn students about parts of the castle that were still considered unsafe due to unfinished reparations, and advised everyone to look out for falling rocks or debris when they walked about.

His speeches had done little in the way of soothing the unrest, but at least it gave off the impression that the staff were doing something to make things better. Several students had already dropped out, their parents thinking Hogwarts to be too dangerous a school for their kids to attend. Harry didn't blame them. If he'd been in their shoes, he probably would've done the same. It was only logical, after all.

The Ministry had also gotten involved, sending several Aurors to the school to question various students and Professors alike. So far, though, their search had turned up no real results.

To top it all off, Harry's nightmares had gotten worse. Before, they had usually consisted of vague images and sounds that were not inherently scary on their own, but was made so through the existence of Harry's own fear for the unknown. Now, though, they were different. More lifelike. Full memories and scenes playing out in his mind, events from the past, the future and the current. Needless to say, it all made no sense to him. The dreams would rarely be in chronological order, and he would usually dream of a completely different event than that of the previous night.

The dreams weren't the worst part, though. The worst part was the book. The one he had hidden underneath his bed in a secret compartment. He could feel it calling out to him now. Whispering his name with a voice as cold and lifeless as Death itself. The book would try to compel him to open it, to read in it and bask in its knowledge. Knowledge that would no doubt end up killing him, if he ever gave in to his impulses. The thing was evil, evil beyond all comprehension. And yet he felt drawn to it, like a moth to an open light.

It wasn't all bad though. The wanted killer, Sirius Black, had yet to show his face. Harry wasn't quite sure what he thought of that. On one hand, he wanted nothing to do with the man. His life was troublesome enough from before. But on the other, some part of him was still curious. Curious to meet his only living family tie, his Godfather. See what he was really like.

Naturally, Hermione had strictly forbidden him from seeking out the man. She still struggled with the aftermath of his outburst, after all. He could see it in her face every time he caught her looking at him. He knew he would have to talk to her about it eventually, but he had put it off so far. That conversation would most likely be incredibly awkward, or incredibly sad. Harry didn't know which one of those he preferred.

Still though, all things considered, nothing too bad had happened. After it became obvious that Blaise Zabini would not turn up again, Dumbledore had held a memorial service in the Great Hall for those who felt the need to mourn. A surprisingly large amount of students had shown up, despite none of them having known the boy particularly well.

Harry still saw the boy in his dreams sometimes. Staring at him with hollow, sunken-in eyes, his body halfway rotten. He always woke up with tears in his eyes afterwards, whispering nonsensical apologies to his pillow. Killing a person was a whole lot tougher to deal with than he had originally imagined. Despite his naturally logical disposition, the guilt was still there, gnawing away at him at every turn. Harry suspected he would never quite get rid of it.

Shooting one last look behind him at Hagrid's little hut, Harry let out a sigh of fatigue, his breath turning to vapor as it came into contact with the cold December air. Things had not gone according to plan what so ever. He now knew for certain that he had an Obscurus growing inside of him, a thought that never failed to frighten him. Harry didn't like the idea of something foreign using his body as a host. It sounded too much like a parasite for him to be comfortable about it. But he would have to make do. There wasn't much he could do about it, after all, at least not yet.

_Goddammit, this year is really giving the others a run for their money. Who would have thought that after fighting a mad Professor in my First Year and a huge fucking snake in the Second, things could possibly get any worse? Talk about rotten luck._

Now that he thought about it, Harry never did figure out why the Sword of Godric Gryffindor decided to come to his aid when he was, in fact, not a Gryffindor. It seemed kind of ironic that a sword fashioned specifically to answer the calls of a Gryffindor student would come to the rescue of a Ravenclaw. He would have to do some more research on that later, if and when he got his hands on the sword again.

_So many mysteries, so little time… If only I had a fucking Time Turner. Damn you and your extra classes Hermione…_

He had practically begged her to let him borrow it when she told him she had one. But no amount of pleading and groveling would get her to turn that thing over. She was too attached to it.

_Maybe one day I'll learn how to travel in time without one._

The thought of it made him smile.

 _Now,_ _if only I could get my hands on another Philosophers Stone…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I was in a good mood today, so I decided to give you guys an extra chapter to enjoy! I know some of you really wanted to see Draco punished for what he did to Hermione, so I'm sorry if my decision to send him home seems a little cheap. Trust me, Draco WILL get what is coming to him. But not yet. That will happen later.
> 
> I did warn you about the slow burn >:)


	8. Act 1: The Calm After the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**Ancient Runes Class**

Hermione stifled a yawn as she perused through her notes for the hundredth time that hour, not really looking for anything in particular. Normally, she found Ancient Runes to be a thrilling subject and by far one of her absolute favorites, but today, the class just wasn't doing it for her. She had stayed up late the night before discussing the… Obscurus Issue… with Harry, and therefore had not gotten anywhere close to the amount of sleep she needed to feel fully energized. She had practically forced herself up from bed by the time morning came around, and had not had the time to eat a proper breakfast or really do much of anything at all before class started.

Redirecting her gaze from her notes to the window, she stared out at the winter wonderland that reigned outside, lost in thought. It truly was a beautiful sight, the glimmering snow coloring every part of the landscape white.

Hermione had always loved Christmas. The feeling of shared enthusiasm, the notion of happiness and affection. It was without a doubt her favorite time of the year. Even now, in the midst of all that had happened over the past few weeks, she still felt it. That telltale excitement and joy. She couldn't wait to go home and finally spend some time with her parents. At least in the Muggle World, nothing crazy or life-threateningly dangerous would happen.

Feeling slightly nostalgic for some reason, she took a moment to reminisce about her past. Being an only child hadn't always been easy. Lacking a brother or sister to play with, Hermione had been forced to find ways to entertain herself at a relatively young age. The fact that she didn't really have a lot of friends growing up either certainly didn't help the situation. Due to this, she had pretty much been relegated to spending most of her free time with her parents. Whenever she wasn't reading or learning about something new, she would be downstairs in the living room with them, watching movies or playing board games. Her parents had been very good with her, and despite everything, Hermione couldn't say she had any regrets about growing up the way she did. They had been a happy family. A simple one, yes, but happy.

Then came the Hogwarts letter, and with it, a brand new world to explore. At first, her parents had been rather… skeptic towards the whole thing, to say the least. They were muggle dentists, after all. Accepting the existence of something as ridiculous as magic had been hard for them. But with Professor McGonagall turning into a cat right in front of their very eyes, it would've been harder still to deny it.

Shaking herself out of her daydream, Hermione returned her attention to what was happening in front of her. Professor Bathsheda Babbling had just finished going through a fresh set of runes, and instructed everyone to copy her work into their notebooks. Needless to say, Hermione already had the runeset written down. She had long since surpassed this part of the curriculum, after all, studying at her own pace in the library with Harry.

_Harry…_

She hoped they would one day be able to return to those carefree days of studying, free from the threat of Voldemort or the Obscurus. She was tired of constantly being in danger. Of constantly feeling scared.

She was sure Harry felt the same way, despite his hesitation to say so.

* * *

**Ravenclaw Common Room**

Harry sat in undisturbed silence in the middle of the Ravenclaw Common Room, his eyes closed and his mind focused. The others would be stuck in class at this time of day, a fact Harry had decided to take advantage of to do some studying of his own. To an unknowing on-looker, it would perhaps appear as if he was meditating, his cross-legged pose reminiscent of the Lotus position often used by Buddhist monks. But the truth was; he was practicing Occlumency, an ancient form of magic that involved clearing ones mind and leaving it utterly void and bottomless.

Occlumency was not a part of the regular curriculum taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, meaning the Ministry had decided it was not a necessary skill for the ordinary wizard to learn. That, of course, had only made it that much more appealing to Harry.

The process of learning it had been slow at first, as the lack of a teacher made it hard for him to know where to start. Simply clearing his mind to the point where it could be considered Occlumency had turned out to be a whole lot harder than he had initially imagined, as stray thoughts would continually appear in his mind, disturbing the void he had built up. Needless to say, the first few months had been a frustrating experience.

Despite this though, he had made considerable strides since the start of the Year. He could now clear his inner mind completely on command, rendering the use of Legilimency on him rather useless. Sure, a skilled enough Legilimens would still be able to penetrate his defenses, but for a surface-level practitioner, he would hopefully prove to be too much of a challenge. For instance, the skill worked wonders for conversations with Dumbledore, as the old meddler would constantly attempt to grasp at his thoughts and feelings when they talked. Brushing off his mental influence was easier than ever now.

Just as Harry yet again felt his mind slipping into that familiar old void, a sound emerged from the entrance to the common room, instantly tearing his concentration to shreds. Someone had come back from school, meaning his little study time was over.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, Harry opened his eyes to see and…

Found himself staring right into the pale, silvery orbs of Luna Lovegood.

"Hello," he stated matter-of-factly, refusing to acknowledge or show even the faintest hint of the surprise he felt.

"Hello to you too, Harry Potter." Luna replied dreamily, her voice light and feathery. Her gaze had locked onto his now, refusing to let him go, judging and evaluating him with wonder as if he was some sort of magical creature she had never seen before.

Harry had heard from the other Ravenclaws that Luna had a tendency of being what one might consider… well… a little weird. The best way to describe her behavior was to say that she appeared to be wrapped up in some constant, internal daydream, seemingly oblivious to the stares and whispers of others. She would also make weird and out-of -place comments that usually didn't have anything to do with the subject matter whenever you tried to talk to her, making her a poor conversationalist to boot.

Despite not being particularly well-informed on such matters, Harry knew his Housemates had made it a habit to make fun of the girl, often resorting to hiding her clothes or calling her names for some quick and easy entertainment. He personally hadn't thought much of it, as it really didn't affect him one way or the other, but he knew Hermione disliked it.

"You were practicing Occlumency, weren't you?" Luna remarked, a tiny, innocent smile ghosting across her lips.

Harry's mind went blank as his brain caught up with her words. He really hadn't expected her to figure out what he was doing so fast, if at all.

"Uhm… okay, I kinda feel like I have to ask now; how could you possibly know that?"

"Oh, it's rather simple, really. Back when my mother was still alive, she would teach me how to clear my mind and empty my thoughts whenever I had to focus on something. My concentration really wasn't all that great back then, you see. She did it to help me get better at studying and such."

"Oh, okay, that explains i… wait, back when your mother WAS alive? As in the past tense?"

Harry was feeling utterly dumbstruck at this point.

"Yes, she died when I was 9 years old whilst attempting to perform a dangerous new spell she had created. It was quite horrible, really. It was especially hard on my dad. I think he blamed himself for her death."

"Oh wow, uhh… that sounds… bad? I'm sorry, I really don't know how to handle a situation like this," Harry frowned, using one hand to gently stroke the back of his head.

"Don't worry, there's nothing wrong with that. People usually feel a little uncomfortable whenever someone talks about death so openly right in front of them."

Harry was amazed at her ability to keep talking with such a straight face even after saying all that. She truly was a peculiar person.

"But I guess that explains how you were able to recognize my Occlumency…"

He let the sentence trail off as his mind looped back around. A growing sense of premonition raced through him, as if his own body was telling him that he was missing something painstakingly obvious. It only took him a second longer before he saw the opportunity that was literally sitting right in front of him for what it was.

"Say, Luna?" he started, narrowing his eyes in a calculating look.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Would you perhaps be interested in… teaching me?"

* * *

**The Great Hall**

Hermione was busy wolfing down a bacon sandwich with great vigor when she spotted Harry across the Great Hall, his jet black hair instantly catching her attention. Her initial reaction should've been to tear her eyes off him to keep up with the act of being mad at him, but for some reason, her body refused to listen to her. She had noticed something about him. He was looking surprisingly cheerful for some reason, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he approached her table and sat down directly opposite of her.

"You're looking awfully happy today…" she finally coughed after letting a minute or two of silence pass between them.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he replied jovially as he reached out across the wooden table to grab a freshly roasted piece of toast. "I think I've found a solution to one of my problems, that's all."

Hermione instantly stopped chewing on her sandwich when his words reached her. _Wait, does that mean…?_

He must've recognized the look in her eyes, because he hurriedly shook his head before she had an opportunity to ask him about it.

"No, I still haven't fixed the whole… Obscurus… thing. I have a feeling that problem is kind of here to stay for the time being. It's going to be a bitch to solve, in other words. But I do have one good thing to report; I've found someone to teach me Occlumency!"

Hermione slowly continued to bite down again, continuing the process of finishing off her meal. She was still somewhat mad at him about the whole nearly-destroying-the-entire-school episode, but seeing him so upbeat again considerably eased her temper.

"Jwsht so you khnow…" she started, the food in her mouth making it hard to speak clearly. "I'm sthill kinda mad at you."

"That's fair," he responded in a dry voice, carefully spreading butter out across the piece of toast in his hand.

"But I guess I'll give you a free pass… for now. Heck, it's Christmas!" she finished, sending him a weak, albeit warm smile for the first time in what felt like a long while.

And, despite his usual hesitance to show physical affection, Harry couldn't help but smile back.

* * *

**Headmasters' Office**

"Cornelius, please, I urge you to reconsider this!"

It was getting late into the evening now, and the Headmasters' Office was unusually crowded for this time of day, with Dumbledore, Severus and McGonagall all present for the Headmaster's meeting with the Minister for Magic. So far, there had been nothing but bad news.

"I apologize, Dumbledore, but this is a matter of national security! Hogwarts is the most respected and well-known wizarding school in all of Britain! It wouldn't do for people to believe it unsafe in light of recent… events. In addition, a lack of action would only reflect poorly on the Ministry!"

"I understand that, my friend, I really do. But allowing Dementors to roam the grounds freely would only invite further trouble! I implore you to send a regiment of Aurors instead."

"I cannot! The DMLE is currently working at maximum capacity to hunt down and capture the infamous killer Sirius Black. We have not a single Auror to spare."

"But…" Albus started again, only to be interrupted by the Minister holding up a leather-clad hand to stop him.

"No buts, Albus. This is how we have decided to proceed. And as your Minister, I am both demanding and expecting your full cooperation going forward in these difficult times. That is final."

The only visible sign of anger Dumbledore showed to this was a slight twitch of his hand, but inside, his temper was flaring up fiercely. He had always known Fudge to be a stubborn man, but this was a new low even for him. Why couldn't he see that inviting Dementors into Hogwarts would only result in more suffering? After everything that had happened, the last thing the frightened students needed to see was yet another monstrosity. And nobody could fully control those wretched creatures, no matter what the Ministry said.

"I… understand. Hogwarts is, of course, at your disposal, Minister."

"Thank you, Albus. I know we have had trouble seeing eye-to-eye in the past, but I do believe we can work together on this. Let's keep the younger generation safe and well, shall we?"

Albus only smiled in response, and watched as the Minister left the room to find somewhere outside of the Hogwarts wards to Apparate from. Not even Ministry officials were allowed the privilege to bypass the wards, after all. Only the Headmaster held that power.

_Yes, we shall. But most likely not in the way you think._

* * *

**7** **th** **Floor Corridor**

"According to the rumors, it's supposed to be around here somewhere…" Harry pondered out loud as the trio scanned the stone walls of this part of the 7th floor hallway. They were a trio this time due to Luna's insistence on joining them as of late. It had been a couple of days since Harry's conversation with her in the common room, but it had become readily apparent since then that she now considered them to be friends of sorts. At first, Hermione had found it a little weird to hang out with her, but she had quickly gotten used to the idea of having the air-head around as a part of their little group. Even Harry had to admit that the girl had a certain charm about her with the way she walked and talked. She saw the world through unfiltered, yet innocent eyes. She perceived things easily dismissed by others, and appeared to have a special connection with animals.

She was yet another mystery, and Harry loved mysteries.

But right now, however, that mystery was being kind of a pain in the ass.

"We won't find the room wandering about like this, in case you hadn't realized that already," she remarked in her usual bemused tone of voice.

"And how exactly are we supposed to find it otherwise? In order to locate something, you usually have to go looking for it!" Hermione replied with clear sarcasm, her already sour mood deteriorating further at the behest of Luna's unhelpful words. They had been at it for close to two hours at this point, and the Hidden Room had yet to reveal itself. Hermione's patience had been pretty much stretched thin by now.

"Yes, but you're not looking for it in the right way."

"Not looking for it "in the right way"?! What in the seven hells do you even mean by that?!"

"I mean that you are looking for it with your eyes and ears, when in reality, you should be looking for it with your mind."

"Okay, Luna…" Harry begun, deciding to intervene before Hermione got the time to do something she would most likely regret. "I really appreciate you coming up here with us to search for the room and all, but right now, you're being kinda obnoxious. Now if you have some clue or something, please feel free to speak up, but if not I think I'm gonna have to ask you to…"

"Okay," the blonde-haired girl replied, shaking her head in what Harry interpreted to be an act of disappointment. "I thought you'd have figured it out by now, but apparently I was wrong. The trick is to walk past it three times thinking about a specific thing or room you need to get the door to appear."

An almost unnerving silence filled the air between them. Hermione seemed to be in a state of complete shock, unable to form a coherent sentence or even decide on what facial expression to hold. Harry too had a hard time believing what he had just heard.

"Luna…" he started slowly, staring at her with what could only be described as the most deadpan look in existence on his face. "Have you… been to the Room before?"

"Yes."

"So you're telling me… you knew how to find it all this time… and didn't tell us?"

"Yes."

"W… wh…" Hermione suddenly piped up, her words coming out as nothing but a hoarse whisper.

"I thought you'd enjoy figuring out the mystery for yourself. I certainly did." It was something in the way she said it that just made it impossible for Harry to be mad at her. Something with the innocent-yet-playful smile on her face that got to him. He hated that.

"Okay, you know what? I'm not even going to be mad about that," he sighed in defeat, instead choosing to redirect his focus towards the wall with newfound interest. Now that he knew about the trick, he couldn't wait to try it out.

_If this actually works… All of those room configurations, all of those possibilities…_

Harry also figured he had to show some tangible results to Hermione real soon before she was given the time to properly detonate, so he took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and focused intently on one particular desire.

_I need a bedroom, I need a bedroom, I need a bedroom…_

Pacing back and forth, he repeated that sentence to himself, focusing on every aspect of it, every word and every pronunciation. Coupled with his recent Occlumency training, it didn't take him long before he felt his entire being becoming obsessed with the idea of locating a bedroom. The desire became his identity, became what he was. He didn't simply want a bedroom, he NEEDED a bedroom. It was essential that he got it.

And then, he felt it. That familiar yet foreign tug at his magic. That feeling of something falling into place. The castle had responded to his silent pleas.

Turning around face the wall, he was rendered speechless as he saw the wall gradually transform from solid rock to a great iron door. The magic was so intertwined with the architecture that he wouldn't ever have been able to detect it if he hadn't already known about its existence.

Before long, Harry and his two friends were no longer standing in front of a stone wall, but a massive and carefully decorated door.

* * *

"Wow, this is… this is just…" Hermione murmured to herself as she looked around the room with wide eyes. "It… It looks just like any ordinary bedroom. I… I don't even know what I expected."

"Mhm. It is pretty shocking at first. The idea that a room can change its entire layout at will is kind of overwhelming," Luna agreed, seemingly unfazed by the whole thing.

"But… are there any limits to what it can do? Are there any rules or restrictions?" Harry wondered out loud as he walked in circles around the main bed, inspecting it from every angle. The detail on it was immaculate, as if it had been custom made with great care and dedication by human hands, and not stitched together by magic.

"Yeah, kind of. The Room supposedly only appears if the person looking for it has real need of it, and sometimes, it doesn't even appear then. It is very temperamental like that, especially in the beginning when one is not used to summoning it."

Adding that little note to his mental list of things to remember, Harry nodded to himself and gestured for Luna to continue.

"Oh, and the Room also can't create food. I was feeling really hungry one day and decided to try changing it into a fully stocked kitchen, but it just didn't work. The kitchen appeared, but there was no food to be found anywhere."

"That would most likely be due to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration," Hermione remarked, deciding to join in on their little conversation. "Food is one of the five Principle Exceptions to that law, meaning that it cannot be created from nothing. Most other objects can."

"Oh. I didn't know that," Luna responded, a look of wonder flashing across her face.

"Hermione has a tendency of knowing things."

"I do?"

"Yes, to an almost annoying degree actually. Anyway, enough about that. I think we should start heading back now," Harry coughed, taking one last look at the bed before turning around to face the exit. "I don't know about you, but I've had enough adventure for one day. We'll have more than enough time to come back here and do some more research on this place later."

"I couldn't agree more," Hermione sighed in response, walking over to the iron door that lead out of the Room. "I could really use a nap right about now."

"Ohhh, a nap sounds nice," Luna simply smiled, her eyes twinkling at the thought of wrapping herself in warm, cozy blankets.

"Alright, let's head back to the common room then."

"Lead the way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehh, f*ck it. Here you go, another chapter to finish off the day before I head to bed.
> 
> I do apologize if this chapter comes off as a little more... boring... than usual. As I said in my author notes way back in the beginning of the first chapter, everything in this story has been mapped out ahead of time, so I have this nifty little timeline I've made for myself that I kinda have to stick to. That is why some chapters may come across as slightly more "filler-y" than others, if that makes sense.
> 
> But in my defense, there were some important bits in here! The introduction of Luna Lovegood, the discovery of the Room of Requirement... all important elements for the story to come.
> 
> I hope you'll be willing to stick with me to the end. I promise I'll try my best to make it worth your while.


	9. Act 1: Christmas Tribulations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**The Grove Apartments, Southeast London**

Sirius Black yawned from exhaustion as he leaned back against the headboard of his bed, closing his tired eyes in search of that ever-elusive good nights' sleep. It had been an exhausting couple of weeks, being on the run from the Ministry and the British wizarding society as a whole. He had been in hiding for what felt like an eternity now, and constantly having to look over his shoulder had become somewhat of a second nature to him.

It was tiresome though. Always having that feeling of someone or something following you. Watching your every move, waiting patiently for an opportunity to strike.

After having lived on the streets for the better part of two weeks, Sirius had finally decided that enough was enough. The urge to sleep in an actual bed had become too strong for him to resist, outweighing even his fear of being caught by the Ministry and sent back to Azkaban. So he had started looking for suitable hotels to spend a couple of nights in, and that's when he had come across the place he was currently living in now.

Needless to say, the first night had been as close to heaven as anything on this Earth could possibly get. Sirius had never really taken the time before to consider just how uncomfortable it was to sleep on concrete. The cold, hard rock made for a very poor mattress, and he was certain his back would never quite be the same ever again.

Opening his eyes to the yellow-ish light of the hotel room, he leaned over to grab the copy of The Daily Prophet that he had stolen from the bag of a fellow wizard he had randomly spotted on the street. The publication was a couple of weeks old at this point, but seeing as he didn't really have anything more up to date at hand, it would have to do. Despite being an outlaw, he still liked to keep himself informed of any new developments in the wizarding world, especially those concerning his grandson.

And as his eyes perused through the front page of the newspaper, he saw just that. News concerning his grandson.

**DEATH AND DESTRUCTION AT HOGWARTS**

_Yesterday, reports of devastating ruin at Hogwarts reached the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The report apparently contained information about an unidentified creature wreaking havoc at the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. The DMLE immediately sent Aurors to the school to secure the area and question the witnesses, but no trace was found of the mysterious being. The castle itself suffered immense damage in many areas, and so far, a student amongst the Third Years has been reported missing._

Sirius let out an anxious breath as he finished reading the paragraph. Hogwarts had been attacked? By whom? Death Eaters? No, the paper had clearly stated that the suspected assailant was an "unidentified creature", meaning it probably wasn't manlike in its appearance. So could it have been something from the Forbidden Forest maybe? A bloodthirsty beast driven mad by hunger that strayed out of the woods in search of prey?

Something told him that wasn't very likely.

_I need to get to Hogwarts. I need to make sure Harry is safe._

He knew it was a bad idea. Wards and possibly even Dementors would most likely surround the place. A single mistake would put him square in the Ministry's crosshairs. But he had to make sure his grandson was okay. He had promised Lily and James that he would protect him. And Sirius never broke a promise.

And so, he started planning his return back to the place of his childhood, where he had left a free man and would return as an outlaw.

* * *

**Room of Requirement**

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, Harry was in the Room of Requirement with his friends, perfectly safe from any bloodthirsty beasts and horrors. It was Christmas morning, and Hermione had proposed that the three of them (Harry, Hermione and Luna) spend the day together celebrating. The room had been changed to resemble a well-decorated living room with a Christmas tree in the corner at Luna's behest, which had caused them quite a headache to get right. At the moment, Harry was dozing off in a recliner with Hermione and Luna eagerly packing in the gifts they had bought for one another in opposite sides of the room.

Yes, gifts. Another one of Hermione's "brilliant" ideas. In the spirit of Christmas, she had decided (commanded) that all three members of their group were to buy each other gifts as a token of friendship. And thus a race had begun, to find the only shops in Hogsmeade that still had gift-worthy items left in stock.

"Harry, it's almost time! Where are your gifts?"

Hermione's friendly-yet-stern voice cut through his carefree slumber, and he opened his eyes to shoot her a flat stare.

"Don't worry, I've got them right here, see?"

Pulling out two neatly wrapped presents from behind the recliner, he felt a twinge of satisfaction at seeing Hermione's eyes light up with surprise.

"Oh, you already finished wrapping them up? That's… oddly considerate of you," she remarked.

"Hey, it's not like I'm always a rational asshole! I can be kind when I want to!"

"Yeah, I suppose. You just rarely want to."

"That… I… I don't actually have a comeback for that…" he replied meekly, shaking his head in defeat.

"I know," Hermione smiled, sending him a small wink before turning around to pick up her own presents.

"I'm finished!" Luna piped up from the other side of the room, getting up on her feet with her gifts in her hands. "Are we going to hand them out now?"

"Yes, yes. Be a little patient, will you?" Harry sighed, placing his presents on a small coffee table in front of him. He really didn't get the hype when it came to Christmas and getting gifts. Then again, he had never gotten any from the Dursleys apart from extra kitchen duty growing up, so he supposed that could be the reason why.

"Alright, is everyone ready?" Hermione asked, sitting down on the couch on the other side of the table.

"Yes!" Luna smiled, jumping into the couch next to her.

"I guess," Harry muttered.

"Okay then, here we go. One for you, and one for you…"

They took turns handing each other their gifts, until everyone was left with two presents each.

"Alright, now we open them! You go first, Harry," Hermione nodded, gesturing for him to open his presents.

Letting out his third sigh of the hour, he started meticulously removing the admittedly beautiful wrapping paper from his present, to the annoyance of Luna who just wanted him to rip it up as fast as possible.

Once the paper was off, he was left with a small gray box approximately the size of his hand.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!"

Ripping open the lid, he was surprised to see what looked like a glass spinning top resting on a small red pillow inside of the box. Carefully picking it up, he held it up to the light to get a better view of the mysterious item.

"It's a Sneakoscope," Hermione informed, a proud smile plastered on her face. "It's supposed to be a type of Dark Detector that lights up, spins and whistles if someone is doing something untrustworthy nearby."

Nodding slowly, Harry inspected the thing with newfound interest. A Dark Detector, huh? He wondered what would happen if he brought it with him to one of his meetings with Dumbledore. Would the thing light up like Times Square at New Years' Eve, or would it remain dormant?

"Wow, I… uhhh… thank you, Hermione. Something like this could come in real handy some day."

"No problem."

"Okay, now it's my turn!" Luna beamed, immediately ripping in to one of her own presents without waiting for confirmation from the others. In clear contrast to Harry, she paid no mind to the exquisitely decorated wrapping paper, tearing it apart without mercy.

"Ohh, what's this?" she pondered out loud as she pulled off the lid of her present.

Inside was an elegant-looking ring made of the purest silver, meticulously engraved with flowery shapes. A glinting ruby rested at its center, casting off a slightly red sheen as the light rippled across its surface.

A collective gasp went up from the two girls when their brain finally recognized the item. It turns out the jeweler at the store hadn't been lying when he said that shiny stuff had that effect on most women.

"Harry, it's… it's beautiful! This must've cost a fortune!" Hermione damn near shouted at him, eyes wide with wonder.

"Yeah, it was kinda pricey. But if there is one thing I have an abundance of, it's money. So don't worry about it," he replied matter-of-factly, his face an expressionless mask.

"But… compared to what I bought…"

Harry could see that Hermione was starting to feel a bit embarrassed by the way she redirected her gaze towards the floor instead, so he hesitantly got up from his seat and enveloped her hand with his own. Hermione visibly flinched when she felt the sudden warmth of his skin against hers.

"Hermione, listen. I don't have a lot of experience when it comes to giving gifts and stuff. I never got any Christmas presents when I was young, so I really don't know what qualifies as a good gift, especially when it comes to women. Heck, the only thing I had to go on was the age-old stereotype that women love jewelry. So I bought the only thing I could think of: a ring. But that doesn't mean your gift will be any less important. The price or quality of the item given really doesn't matter. It truly is the thought that counts… I think."

It was a surprisingly human moment, and something Hermione hadn't expected to hear from someone like him. And to her great surprise, she felt a strange warmth blaze up in the depths of her heart, filling her with a mix of giddiness and excitement.

"I… uhh..." she started, her mind coming up blank as she tried to formulate an answer to his little speech.

"I think what she means to say, is that she appreciates the gesture," Luna nodded, having seen Hermione's struggle and decided to offer a helping hand.

"Again, don't worry about it," Harry smirked as he got back up again, before seemingly remembering something. "Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. I added a little enchantment of my own making to that ring. Put it on your finger and give the ruby a rub."

Intrigued, Luna gently placed it onto her ring finger, and rubbed the ruby with the thumb of her other hand. Suddenly, a rush of what felt like cold water ran through her veins, cooling her down significantly. The feeling came so suddenly that she couldn't help but gasp in surprise.

"Yeah, cool right? Works wonders in warm weather, or if you have a fever."

"Wow, thanks Harry. I really appreciate it."

"No problem, Luna."

Harry then proceeded to gesture for Hermione to unpack her present. "Now it's your turn."

"Y… yeah," she coughed, glad to have something else to focus on instead. Unpacking her gift with smooth, delicate movements, she made sure not to create even a single rift in the wrapping paper as she went along.

Harry watched with something akin to trepidation welling up in his heart, the unexpected tension making him feel more uncomfortable than he had thought he would. What if she didn't like it? What if she thought he was being cheap by getting her something like that after he gave Luna such an expensive gift?

Hermione finally got the lid off, putting an end to his speculation. She slowly looked inside, her eyes going wide at the sight that awaited her.

"NO! YOU DIDN'T!" she suddenly shouted, locking eyes with Harry.

"W… what?!" he replied, shocked at the sudden outburst of emotion.

"Is that a Bag of Unlimited Holding?! DID YOU BUY ME A BAG OF UNLIMITED HOLDING HARRY?!" A wide smile of uncontained joy and happiness had replaced the surprised one, making Harry laugh at how ridiculous she looked.

"Yes! Now stop screaming woman! You're scaring the shit out of me!" he chuckled, leaning back in his recliner. "You better appreciate it too, because that thing was a right pain in the ass to track down. I first saw it in a shop window a couple of months ago and thought it might be something you'd be interested in. Judging by your reaction, turns out I was right."

"Yes, yes, a million times yes Harry! I love it!" she squealed with childish delight, inspecting and admiring the bag from every angle.

"Good."

"Harry, I don't mean to intrude on your conversation..." Luna suddenly said from her position staring out the window a couple of meters away. "But I believe you might want to see this." Wondering what it was she had spotted, Harry walked over to her and shot a look outside.

What he saw shocked him down to his very core.

Outside of the window, dozens of Dementors were flying around, leaving trails of dark mist lingering in the air. There were more of them than Harry had ever seen before, patrolling the grounds with palpable hostility. It was obvious that they were searching for something… or someone.

Hermione, intrigued by Harry and Luna's reaction, walked up to the window as well, only to be shocked herself.

"W – why are there Dementors here? At Hogwarts?" Harry muttered to himself as his eyebrows furrowed with concern. "Is it because of Sirius Black?"

"Maybe…" Hermione breathed in return. "But this many? Seems a bit… overkill."

"Dementors are bad," Luna frowned. "They scare the animals and are ugly to look at." Her childlike innocence despite everything she'd been through never ceased to amaze Harry, and even now he had to scoff at how simple yet accurate her description of the Dementors was. They were bad, they were scary and they were ugly. Very simple, yet true words.

"Yeah, you're right," he answered. "This is bad. Dementors are creatures of pure darkness, and their presence alone is enough to suck out all notion of happiness and joy. And if there is one thing we need right now, after everything that has happened, it's some joy."

"We should ask Professor McGonagall about this. She might be able to tell us more," Hermione agreed, already heading for the door.

"What about the presents?" Luna added, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"We'll come back for them," Harry responded, inwardly wondering how she could possibly be thinking about something like that after seeing all those Dementors literally right outside the window.

"Okay."

"Alright then, let's go."

* * *

**Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

Amelia Bones was having a bad day. A really, really bad day. To start it all of, Minister Fudge had apparently decided to send a couple dozen Dementors to Hogwarts, a school that had certainly seen its fair share of tragedies the past two years, and had of course chosen not to tell her about it. And even when she went to confront him about it, he had used Sirius Black as a shield, and blamed the necessity of them on him still being on the loose.

Amelia still trembled with fury at the thought of how he had uttered those words, with a huge smirk on his face. He knew she couldn't do anything about his decision, and he loved it. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to do everything in her power to make his life as miserable as possible in the process.

It was no secret that Amelia didn't particularly like Fudge. Ever since the idiot got elected, he had done nothing but make bad decisions and listen to the voices of people like Lucius Malfoy. The useless prick was so far down their pockets at this point that they could probably just ask the man for permission to resurrect Voldemort himself and the blithering idiot would just tip his hat and agree.

Needless to say, she longed for the day someone would come along and replace him.

But for now, she was stuck with him. And she would have to put up with his bullshit for however long he was in power.

"Can someone get me Auror Tonks in here?" Amelia shouted out of the door leading in to her office. "I need to speak with her."

"Right here, boss!" A feminine voice responded, and before long, the metamorphmagus was standing in front of her, her hair lazily shifting from light red to pink. The girl had a pale heart-shaped face, short spiky hair and wore clothes that probably weren't in accordance with the dress code at the DMLE, but Amelia had long since given up on getting her to wear a uniform.

"Ahh, good. Auror Tonks, I have a special assignment for you," Amelia nodded, walking into the office and getting seated in her chair behind the rather massive mahogany desk.

"And what sort of assignment might that be, director?" Tonks responded, choosing to remain standing.

"I need you to go to Hogwarts and… look around a little."

The metamorphmagus visibly recoiled as Amelia told her about her mission, a look of surprise briefly flashing across her face before she regained her composure.

"Hogwarts, boss? But I just finished my qualifications, I've only been an Auror for about 2 months. I'm literally fresh off the boat."

"Yes, and that is exactly why I want you for this assignment. I need someone who's not affected by the bias most of us get after working for the DMLE for a while."

"I'm not entirely sure I follow, boss," Tonks remarked, scratching the back of her head with one hand.

"That's okay, all you need to know is that the task I am about to give you has to remain secret. You are not to talk about it with anyone outside of this room unless given permission to do so by me," Amelia responded, opening a drawer in her desk to pull out a stack of papers. "So not a word about this to anyone, okay? If anyone asks, say you're out on sick leave."

"But… the Professors and students at Hogwarts, surely they will notice my presence? I do have a tendency of sticking out in crowds, as you can probably imagine."

"Oh come on Nymphadora, use your imagination," Amelia sighed, sliding a couple of the papers across the desk towards her. "You're a metamorphmagus, right?"

"So, you want me to… change my appearance? Into what exactly? People would notice if a new student suddenly appeared without warning," Tonks retorted, her voice straining slightly at the mention of her first name. She really hated being called that.

"Yes, which is why you won't go there under the guise of a student. I want you to change into an animal."

There was a moment of silence before Tonks opened her mouth to speak again.

"And what makes you think I can do that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Amelia responded, one eyebrow raised in an arch. "Just a hunch."

"…"

Taking her silence as a sign of acceptance, Amelia gestured to the papers she had pushed over for Tonks to see.

"Sign your name on these, and go home and pack your things. You'll be departing for Hogwarts tomorrow."

Letting out a sigh of defeat, Tonks grabbed a nearby pencil and started signing the forms.

"And what will I be doing during my mission?"

"Oh, nothing major. Just keeping an eye on The-Boy-Who-Lived."

* * *

**Hogwarts Express**

Draco Malfoy absentmindedly stared out at the lush scenery outside of the window as the magically-driven Hogwarts Express made its way across the Scottish Highlands. He had stayed at home for quite some time now, and had only recently made the decision to return to Hogwarts. His education couldn't wait forever after all, and he had already given Potter plenty of time to cool down, so hopefully he wouldn't try to pull anything once Draco got to Hogwarts.

His stay at home had been an… interesting experience, to say the least. His father had been jumping between being overly ecstatic about the idea of Harry Potter going to Azkaban (after Draco told him of his suspicions regarding The Incident), and depressed at the thought of the DMLE catching on to him and his manipulation of the Minister for Magic. Him and his fellow allies had finally gotten Fudge to send Dementors to Hogwarts, in hopes that it would result in the capture of the wanted fugitive Sirius Black. The man had been on the run for quite a while now, and it was obvious to Draco that his father needed the man to end up back in Azkaban again. Draco suspected his father had some insider information regarding the Black case, but he had purposefully chosen not to look into it in fear of what his father might do to him should he ever find out.

It was not like he didn't already know that his father was a Death Eater, after all. Despite what Potter might say, Draco was in fact actually rather intelligent, and more than capable of putting two and two together. His fathers' sometimes weird behavior whenever the subject of Lord Voldemort came up, his secret-keeping, his allies and his general attitude all hinted at the same thing: that he was indeed a servant of the Dark Lord.

But Draco didn't particularly mind that though. He didn't see what was so bad about the Dark Lord. Sure, he had some rather controversial views on certain topics (such as the treatment of mudbloods and other infidels) but apart from that, Draco was certain that Lord Voldemort would make for a better leader of the British wizarding society than Fudge. Godric knows that man couldn't do a single useful thing unless specifically instructed to.

But for now, Draco had other things to worry about. The whole incident with the filthy mudblood that was Hermione Granger had perhaps been a little too… intense. He might've gone a bit too far, in other words. He would have to lay low for some time, in order to avoid attracting too much attention to himself and his father.

That naturally meant that he would have to put his favorite pastime activity on hold, which was to agitate Potter, but he figured he could survive without it for at least a couple of weeks. Give the pathetic little shit some time to recover, before he struck him down once and for all.

A small smile ghosted across Draco's face at the thought of strangling Harry Potter with his bare hands. True, for now, he would have to lay low. But in the future… well, Potter was in for some rough times.

_Just you wait, dearest Harry… Just. You. Wait._


	10. Act 1: A Dangerous Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**Room of Requirement**

_27… 28… 29…_

Pushing himself to the limit, Harry put all of his remaining energy and strength into finishing one last push-up, his body steadily rising from the ground on shaky arms.

"30."

Saying the final number out loud, he fell down onto his side as his muscles threatened to give out under the weight of his own body, all of his reserves totally depleted. This new training regime he had been following for the past couple of months was really starting to take its toll on him, and he could feel his arms already beginning to ache from the rigorous workout he had just put them through.

It had been some time since the decision to start working out had been made, and so far, it was a lot tougher than he had thought it was going to be. Forcing yourself to take forty minutes out of your schedule to do something that really wasn't all that pleasurable was something that had taken some getting used to, and he still often found himself having to mentally "psyche" himself up before he begun each workout.

The deal did come with some benefits, though. His physique had taken on a slightly more robust form now, and, if compared to his previous self, you could easily spot some significant changes to how he looked. His abs and lower abdomen had become more toned, not to the point of being clearly visible or even what could be considered "lean", but just enough that one could see that he had spent some time working out. His upper body had also seen some improvements, with his pectorals growing slightly more pronounced and his arms putting on some lean muscle as well.

He was still nowhere near the point of being "ripped", but he was at least not as scrawny as he used to be, and the traces of his aunt and uncle's abuse were slowly beginning to fade. The malnourished look he had sported for the past two years was almost gone, and he was starting to look more like an average teenager now. That had been the main reason why he had started working out in the first place, after all. Repairing the damage inflicted on him by his relatives.

Walking over to a nearby chair that he had willed into existence before starting on his workout, he grabbed the discarded robes he had put there and begun changing back into his normal attire. He usually chose to work out in the Room of Requirement these days, the room's ability to change according to its users' whims and wishes having proven to be quite the boon to his everyday life. Who would have thought that having a room that could turn into basically anything you wanted would be so useful?

After putting on his clothes, Harry conjured up a mirror and spent some time making sure his robes looked okay, before shooting one final look around to double check that he hadn't forgotten anything. Leaving something behind in the Room was usually a very bad idea, because chances were you would never get it back once you left.

Harry actually had no idea where the stuff would go, but he supposed it probably just vanished right along with the Room itself, so he had made it a habit to always make sure he hadn't forgotten anything before leaving.

Hearing the large, iron door slam shut behind him, he started on the long walk back to Ravenclaw Tower, his thoughts a jumbled mess. The past couple of days had been… tense, to say the least. The presence of the Dementors made him feel particularly jumpy, and the only thing Professor McGonagall had been willing to tell them was that the "Ministry had seen it fit to increase security around Hogwarts, considering the recent attack and Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban".

Harry still had mixed feelings about his Godfather. On one hand, he realized that the man very well could be dangerous, if nothing else due to all of the years he had spent being tortured in that wicked excuse of a Sovjet gulag the Ministry called a prison. But on the other, he adamantly refused to believe that such a close friend of his parents would truly be capable of betraying them all in favor of serving the Dark Lord.

If he ever got an opportunity to talk to Sirius, he would ask him these questions before he did anything else. He had to know if his Godfather was in fact innocent. The Ministry's story just... fit too well. It was too convenient. The impression Harry had of Minister Fudge was that he was a man afraid of direct confrontation, so it was more than plausible that the man had chosen to place the blame for the death of the Potters on an innocent man and ship him off to Azkaban in order to avoid negative attention by the press. To appear as if he was doing something, when in reality, he was actually just a useless piece of shit being bossed around by people far more influential than he was.

All of this was just pure speculation on Harry's part though. He really had no solid evidence to back any of this up, so none of his inquiries would hold any sort of weight in a court of law. Sirius would remain guilty until proven otherwise, and right now, Harry had no way of helping him.

As he continued on his walk, Harry failed to notice the sudden change in temperature, as engrossed in his thoughts as he was. The hallway had gotten significantly colder, with traces of frost beginning to creep up the stone walls. But it wasn't before Harry's own eyelashes started to freeze that he stopped and truly noticed the difference.

_That's weird… I can't remember the castle being this cold just a couple of minutes ago…_

By the time Harry realized what was about to happen, it was already too late. The Dementor had already found him. Harry watched in horror as the bony, black-robed creature slithered around the corner up ahead, its nonexistent eyes locking onto him like a predator to its prey. The temperature dropped yet again, this time sending noticeable waves of chills rippling through Harry's body.

Time seemed to slow down as the Dementor gradually started floating towards him, its foul mouth wide open in something resembling a silent scream. Harry could feel himself pull out his wand, uttering the incantation to the Expecto Patronum spell, but it felt… distant. As if he had been detached from his own body, forced to watch himself go through the motions as an onlooker instead of actually being the one in control.

Needless to say, his attempts were futile nonetheless. The spell failed to produce anything more than a slight silvery mist, and before he had the chance to turn around and run, the creature was upon him, its terrifying presence alone enough to wipe out all traces of happiness.

Harry could feel himself being drained, the Dementor sucking out all of his happy memories and feasting on them like a wild animal. He could do nothing as he fell to his knees, his meager resistance all but shattered by the dark creature that was ravaging his mind.

Harry's perception of time slowed down. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours, and with each passing moment, he felt his sense of identity grow a little bit weaker. But just when Harry was about to give in to the darkness and fall unconscious, something… extraordinary… happened. It was as if someone had put a shield up in front of his thoughts, blocking out the Dementors' influence. It took him a moment to realize that that someone was in fact none other than himself.

It was his Occlumency barriers kicking in, shielding his mind from the evil entity that wanted to hurt it. The Dementor had sucked out all of the happiness he could give, leaving nothing but the void behind. That void was endless, never-ending and so incredibly dark. Occlumency was, after all, all about emptying the mind, leaving nothing but darkness for others to find. Now that the Dementor had removed the thoughts from Harry's mind, all that was left was that darkness. And there was nothing for the creature to feast on in that void.

Harry felt a twinge of grim satisfaction as he saw the Dementor visibly recoil, as if confused at this new change of events. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The human was supposed to surrender to the darkness, not adopt and embrace it.

As his Occlumency barriers gradually grew in strength, Harry rose from the ground on shaky feet in a show of defiance. He would not give in to this wicked creature. He was stronger than that, stronger than it.

The Dementor, looking more and more despondent by the second, finally gave up its pointless struggle and turned away from Harry. This boy was different, and the Dementor didn't like that. The prey wasn't supposed to fight back. After it finally became obvious that there was nothing to be had here, the creature chose to retreat instead, floating away from the now thoroughly exhausted wizard.

His heart hammering against his ribs, Harry watched as the Dementor disappeared deeper into the castle, its frayed, black robe floating eerily in the air after it, leaving behind the foul smell of death. A small part of his brain was yelling at him that something important had just happened, and that he better remember it for later, but in that moment, Harry was too tired to really care. The only thing that mattered was that he had managed to fight off a Dementor without the use of an Expecto Patronum spell, proving that it wasn't an impossibility. He could worry about the specifics of that discovery later.

Right now, there was only one thing on Harry's mind.

_I have to tell Hermione._

* * *

**The Great Hall**

Hermione Granger was in a bad mood. A really bad mood. Her day had turned out to be infuriating right from the start. You would think that with a Time Turner on her side, she would be able to catch up with all of her classes and keep on top of her studying. But something evil was happening. Something so dark, so cruel that she didn't even have the words to describe it. She was having trouble paying attention in class. Knowledge was flying right over her head.

An unnatural phenomenon was taking place. Hermione Granger had effectively reached the point where her brain could no longer keep up with the constant stream of information she was feeding it. She had been forced to face a terrifying realization: she had finally reached her limit.

In hindsight, it had been bound to happen at some point. Taking as many classes as she did, it wasn't weird that something from one lecture would mix with something from another, her brain struggling to properly sort and analyze all of the data it was being fed. But she hadn't expected it to happen so soon. She had only been using the Time Turner for a little over half-a-year, she couldn't be hitting her wall already!

Thoughts like these occupied her mind as she made her way into the Great Hall, getting seated in her usual spot towards the southern end of the Ravenclaw table. She silently noted Harry's absence, but didn't think much of it. He was probably busy running around the castle getting himself into trouble as usual. Now that she thought about it, that was quite possibly his most prominent skill, the ability to locate trouble and promptly throw himself head first into it.

And it wouldn't take long for her suspicions to be confirmed.

Just a couple of minutes later, whilst she was busy enjoying a nice piece of toast with melted butter and cheese, Harry came stumbling into the Great Hall, looking pale as a corpse and more than a little shaken up.

"Hermione…" he gasped as he noticed her sitting in her usual spot, hurrying towards her on unsteady feet.

"Oh here we go again… what did you do this time, Harry?" she replied with a sigh, spinning around on the bench to face him.

"I… didn't… do… anything…" Harry wheezed back, nearly falling to his knees as he leaned towards the table to support himself. That's when Hermione started to get a little worried, for real this time. He really didn't look good, and it became obvious that something bad had happened.

"Harry, you look like you've been chewed on by a dragon, spit out and then hit with a truck. What happened?

"D… Dementor…" he grimaced, causing a small gasp to escape from Hermione's lips.

"You were attacked by a Dementor?!"

"Yes…"

Her head racing to find answers, she hurriedly got up from the table and went over to Harry. Attacked by Dementors? That should've been impossible! The Headmaster himself had assured everyone that the creatures were purely there to act as security guards to protect them whilst Sirius Black was on the loose. They weren't supposed to attack students!

Putting one of his arms over her shoulders, she helped Harry to his feet, and then proceeded to lead him out of the Great Hall. All eyes were on them as they walked across the room, heading for the door. Nobody said a word, as if rushing to help or even making a sound would break the spell of silence placed upon them all.

Hermione felt a deep sense of disappointment in her fellow students then. She knew that Harry was hardly the most popular guy around, and that most people usually tried their best to avoid him, but it should still be a natural reaction for everyone to help those in need, especially if those in need literally came stumbling through the door. The fact that she was the only one rushing to his aid was deeply saddening to her.

"We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione stated with clear determination, a small grimace shooting across her face as Harry leaned more of his weight on her. Just when did he get this heavy?

"T… thanks, Hermione," he puffed back, struggling to remain conscious as a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

"Oh please. This is hardly a first with you, Harry," she breathed back, leading them down corridor after corridor in a desperate bid to reach the Hospital Wing as quickly as possible.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally spotted the signature double doors that she had gotten all too accustomed to seeing for the past two-and-a-half years. Despite not wanting to, she couldn't help but think back to her Second Year at Hogwarts, and her meeting with the Basilisk. The fact that Harry had managed to slay that thing was, in hindsight, a lot more impressive than she had originally given him credit for. And now that she thought about it, it was probably around that time that she had first developed an interest in him, an interest that stretched beyond the boundaries of mere friendship.

Feeling the beginnings of a blush starting to creep its way onto her face, she shook her head violently to get rid of those types of thoughts. She didn't have time to dwell on her feelings for Harry right now. In this moment, she had to focus on helping him instead.

Pushing open one of the doors with her free hand, she practically dragged Harry into the Hospital Wing, shouting for Madam Pomfrey to come help. The matron didn't take long to show up, a shocked expression coloring her features as she noticed the state he was in.

"Merlin's beard, Harry! What manner of trouble did you throw yourself into this time?"

"Why… does everyone… assume… I enjoy… hurting myself?" he gasped, gratefully accepting the bed that was assigned to him by Madam Pomfrey.

"Oh, make no mistake, Mr. Potter. I do not for one second believe you enjoy the pain. I merely think your talent for seeking out danger overshadows the fear you have of getting hurt."

"That… might be right…"

"Now, lay perfectly still, and I will see what I can do for you."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione chimed in, her eyes firmly locked on Harry as the older woman scoured through a nearby medical cabinet in search of something that could help him.

"Hmmm… this should do the trick," the matron stated, coming back to them with an unknown vial of liquid in her hand. Harry cautiously took it when she offered it to him, a trace of suspicion flashing across his face.

"Oh, just drink it, will you? It's not like I'm going to poison you, Mr. Potter."

"Ahh, ehh… I knew that. I just… kinda dislike potions, that's all." _Godric knows_ _I already have enough foreign entities in my body._

Pulling out the small plug from the top of the bottle, Harry lifted it to his lips, and downed the contents within in one big swig. As he brought the now empty vial back down again, he launched into a violent coughing fit, his eyes welling up with tears as his body shook from the force.

"There we go, just let it work its magic. You'll be feeling better in no time."

A couple of minutes passed before the coughs finally died down. But once they did, it became obvious that whatever the potion was had worked, as Hermione could already see the color returning to his face.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. Whatever was in that potion really helped! I feel like I could run a marathon right now!"

"Yes yes, settle down now. What I gave you was an Invigoration Draught. It's a potion specifically designed to give the taker an energy boost," Madam Pomfrey explained, taking the empty vial from Harry and putting back in the cupboard. "It essentially gives you an overabundance of energy, sort of like a caffeine shot, except much, much stronger".

"Does that mean he'll be okay, Madam?" Hermione asked, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Yes, I do believe so. It seems that Mr. Potter here had simply exhausted his magical core. What caused such a thing to happen, however, I have no clue. Perhaps the young Mister would be so kind as to enlighten us?"

"Erm…" Harry started, doing a poor job of concealing his doubt. "Well, you see…"

"He was attacked by a Dementor," Hermione blurted out before she had the time to think about what she was doing.

"He was… what now?"

"Attacked. By a Dementor," she repeated, her mind finally beginning to realize the repercussions such an event might have.

"But… Albus reassured us those hideous creatures would stay far away from the students… I… I don't…" It was obvious that Madam Pomfrey really didn't know how to react to hearing such a thing, as it had probably been the last thing she was expecting to hear. Usually when students came to her Wing with an exhausted magical core, it was because they had attempted to cast complex magic that far exceeded their own level, not because one of the most dangerous creatures in the wizarding world had attacked them.

"It's okay, Madam Pomfrey, it really is. I managed to fight it off, even if I had to use a little too much magic to do so," Harry reassured her, internally grimacing at the effort it took him to do so. He apparently wasn't completely healed yet, as he could still feel the immense exhaustion weighing down his body with each word he spoke.

"You fought it off? How?" Madam Pomfrey asked, a confused look replacing the shocked one. "It's highly unusual for a child your age to know how to cast the Patronus Charm."

"Well, I... I didn't use a Patronus," Harry mumbled in response, awkwardly shifting his gaze away from the matron.

"You didn't?" both Hermione and Madam Pomfrey gasped in unison.

"No…" he replied, looking even more uncomfortable now.

"Then… then… how? How did you do it?" Hermione asked, furrowing her eyebrows in thought.

"I… used Occlumency."

"Occlumency?!"

"Yes, Occlumency."

A moment of silence passed then, as both Hermione and Madam Pomfrey struggled to make sense of what he had just told them.

"But… that's impossible…" Madam Pomfrey muttered; her eyes firmly locked on Harry as her brain struggled to find an answer. "You can't use Occlumency to defeat a Dementor… that just doesn't work…"

"Are you sure that's what you did, Harry?" Hermione asked, to which Harry nodded in response.

"Yes, Hermione, I'm pretty sure that's what I did. I wouldn't be sitting here right now if I hadn't. You know just as well as me that I can't cast the Patronus Charm."

"That's… true…"

"So the only way I could've escaped that Dementor was by using Occlumency. And that's what I did."

Another moment of silence came and went, before Madam Pomfrey finally shook herself out of the trance.

"Well, whatever it was you did, I still have to report this incident to the Headmaster. I'm sure he will be deeply shocked to hear about this, especially considering the… unconventional method… used to fight off the creature."

"Any chance you could perhaps omit that last part from your report?" Harry frowned, not really expecting her to do so.

"Not at all, Mr. Potter. Not at all."

* * *

Harry was released from the Hospital Wing a few hours later, after Madam Pomfrey had made sure that he was in a good enough condition to leave. As he walked out into the hallway, he immediately spotted Hermione leaning up against the wall, obviously waiting for him to get out.

"Hermione, I…" he started as he approached her, but she cut him off before he had a chance to finish his sentence.

"Harry, did you lie to me in there?" she asked, her voice firm and demanding.

"W… what? Lie to you?"

"Yes, lie to me. Did you?"

It took him a moment to realize that she actually wanted a serious answer from him.

"No! I was telling the truth, I promise!"

She regarded him with suspicion, her eyes measuring him from head to toe.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Of course I am!"

Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes and turned away from him.

"Good. Follow me."

Surprised at the sudden change of tone, Harry could do nothing but hurry after her as she set off walking down the hallway, her pace brisk and determined.

"Uhm… Hermione?" he asked, gathering up the courage to ask her. Godric, she was really scary when she was mad. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"Wait and see," she replied, apparently not in the mood to humor his request. Deciding that silence was probably the best option at this point, Harry promptly shut his mouth, and kept on walking.

After climbing up a couple of staircases, the duo eventually came to a halt in the middle of what appeared to be a completely ordinary hallway. Harry immediately recognized where they were, of course. They were on the 7th floor, right outside of the Room of Requirement.

"Ehh… Hermione, what are we doing here?"

"Just shut up and let me focus, okay?"

"O… okay…"

He stood in silence and watched as Hermione closed her eyes and willed the double iron doors into existence. He had no clue what form she wanted the room to take, but he figured he would find out soon enough. It was obvious she had a reason for bringing him here, even if he couldn't personally see why right now.

"Alright, it's done. In here," she stated matter-of-factly, pushing open one of the doors with a firm hand and entering the room. Letting out a sigh of defeat, he followed after her, making sure to close the door behind him once he was inside.

_Oh boy, here we go…_


	11. Act 1: Winds of Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**Room of Requirement**

Following Hermione into the Room of Requirement, Harry was surprised to find himself standing in an exact replica of the Ravenclaw common room. The wide, airy space was littered with books, school papers and old documents, and a warm fire blazing in the fireplace cast long shadows across the ground, coloring the otherwise white marble golden yellow. All in all, the room looked… cozy. Very cozy, in fact. But he didn't have the faintest of clues as to why Hermione had chosen to bring him here now.

"Oh, wow… this is… nice…" he muttered timidly, not really sure what to say.

"Hmm… I suppose it is," Hermione replied, shrugging ever so slightly. "I don't really know why I like it, but for some reason it calms me down. And I could use some of that calmness right about now."

Her words, despite being spoken in a soft tone of voice, scared Harry more than any Dementor ever had.

"So… you feel calmer now…?" he dared ask, inwardly holding his breath.

Letting out a long sigh, she turned around to face him, her eyes locking onto his with relentless intensity.

"Harry, we need to talk."

_Oh god no. Those words… those dreaded words. A man's greatest fear._

"W… we do…?" he stammered, swallowing hard in an attempt to strengthen his resolve. It didn't work.

"Yes, we do. We need to talk about what happened today, what's going to happen in the future and… and…

Taking a deep breath, she steadied her voice and allowed those last, soul-crushing words to leave her lips.

"And… our friendship. We need to talk about our friendship."

It took him a moment to realize the true meaning behind her words. But once he did, it was like a whirlpool of emotions roared to life inside of him, threatening to claw its way out. He felt sad, hurt, betrayed, disappointed; all at the same time.

_Our… friendship? What does she mean by… don't tell me that…_

"Yes, Harry. Our friendship," she continued once she saw that he had realized what she meant. "I'm not sure if… if it's a good idea to… to…"

Hermione felt her voice beginning to break. Her words were becoming shaky, her mouth was starting to quiver and the tears were welling up in her eyes. It hurt to say it. Hell, it hurt to even think about it. But it had to be done. She had to make him realize that this was serious. That this wasn't just some sort of joke, that it wasn't something that he could ignore or brush off.

"Hermione, please…" Harry suddenly breathed, cutting her off before she could force herself to say the last few words. "Please, don't do this…"

It killed her a little inside to hear him say that.

"Harry, I… I can't…"

"Please…" he whispered again, taking a single step towards her out of pure desperation.

"You need to understand…" she started, already feeling her walls beginning to crumble under the weight of her words. Godric, who would have thought it would hurt so much? "You need to understand that…"

"But I do understand, Hermione, I do," he exclaimed, grabbing ahold of her arm in a fit of despair. "I admit; I didn't know it was this bad, but I can see that now. I get it. I've been hurting you. Not on purpose, but I have."

His words brought her to a pause, her brain shorting out as she struggled to say anything at all.

"But from now on, I'll do things differently. I won't keep secrets from you. I won't lie to you. I promise. I promise, so just please… don't go. I can't… I'm not strong enough to lose another one…"

Eyes wide in shock at the sudden outburst of emotion, Hermione stood completely still as she processed his words. She had expected him to react strongly to the suggestion, but this strongly? That was highly unusual for Harry. He was more of the silent, brooding type, and not really one for sharing his emotions.

"So… will you stay? … Please?" he sighed, slowly letting go of her arm to run a shaky hand through his hair.

"I… maybe…" she started, her mind not quite managing to find the right words to form a coherent sentence.

"You don't have to answer me now, if you don't want to. All I'm asking for is a second chance…"

A nerve-wracking moment of silence passed between them before Hermione finally opened her mouth to answer him.

"…kay"

"Hmm?"

"Okay… okay."

Her words hit him like a truck. He could scarcely believe his own ears, in fact. For the past couple of months, he had been treating Hermione more like an obstacle than a friend. He had pushed her away, lied to her, kept her in the dark… He was fully aware of how unfriendly he had been. So the fact that she was still willing to give him a chance... It made him feel all kinds of ways.

"Thank you…" he breathed, acting on pure instinct and enveloping her in a soft hug.

At first, Hermione stood stiff as a board as he hugged her, but then she gradually began melting into his touch. Her defenses broke down, and she allowed her tears to flow freely for the first time since they began the conversation.

Pushing her head into his shoulder, she cried and cried as Harry held her in his embrace. Rubbing his hand up and down her back, he tried his best to comfort her through the storm, but in reality, he too was struggling. He too wanted to cry as hard as he could. This had been painful for the both of them; and Harry had to really fight to keep his own tears from bursting out.

A few minutes passed by, and Hermione's cries started to die down again. She had shed her tears now, and felt magnitudes better than before. Noticing the change, Harry gently pushed her away from him, still holding her close, but not as close as before. He looked at her bloodshot eyes, and used his hand to brush back a stray lock of hair that had fallen into her face during her breakdown. Her heart soared as he did so, sorrow suddenly replaced with giddy, childlike excitement. Having Harry touch her in such a loving way set off fireworks in her head, and she secretly thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't gone through with her original plan of breaking up their friendship.

"Better now?" Harry asked, a flash of worry marring his features for just a moment before seemingly vanishing.

"Yeah… a little bit," Hermione replied drily, wiping away the leftover tears from the corner of her eyes. "Thanks. For hearing me out, and… for taking me seriously."

"Hey, no problem," Harry smiled, letting go of her completely and taking a couple of steps back. "From now on, I promise I'll always listen when you have something to say."

"Thank you," she smiled back, absentmindedly rubbing the spot on her arm where his hand had just been. "And I hate to ruin the moment, but… I think we should start heading back. We've already been gone for too long, and even if we don't like it, we still have classes to attend…"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, his eyes honing in on the door leading out of the room. "That's probably a good idea."

And together they left the Room of Requirement, with Hermione looking more like a mess than before, but also feeling a heck of a lot better.

* * *

**Streets of London**

Sirius had never really liked spending a lot of time in his dog form. The natural instincts that lay hard-coded in every dog's DNA could at times be very hard to ignore, and even with years of practice, he still occasionally felt the need to randomly chase cats or pee on fire hydrants. Not the worst things to have to deal with, of course, but still annoying at the best of times. And, seeing as he had been on the run from the Ministry for the past couple of months, he had been forced to spend more time in his dog form than what was perhaps healthy.

Still though, the skill to transform into a stray dog had helped him avoid incarceration on numerous occasions and was a valuable asset to getting around without being noticed. It hadn't, however, helped him nearly as much as he had hoped it would when it came to finding his way back to Hogwarts.

The first problem with getting back to the school had appeared when Sirius realized that he couldn't simply sneak onto the Hogwarts Express, because that particular train only went to Hogwarts three times a year, and he had missed the Christmas train by a couple of hours. He then realized that he couldn't just Apparate either, because his magic was still a tad bit unstable due to his prolonged stay at Azkaban, and he was quite frankly afraid he would end up impaled on a tree or something if he even tried. True, he had used Apparition to escape Azkaban in the first place, but back then he really hadn't had much of a choice, and thus had been forced to use it. So, taking all of that into consideration, he was left with only one reasonable option: the Knight Bus.

Now, if you asked any wizard or witch currently presiding in Britain about how it was to ride the Knight Bus, most of them would probably vomit in reflex as their brains recalled the shaky and stomach twisting experience. So the thought of having to take that deathtrap all the way to Hogwarts wasn't exactly pleasant. But, considering his current situation, Sirius figured he didn't get to have the luxury of being picky when it came to the method of transportation.

Getting onto the actual bus itself, though, had proven to be easier than Sirius had been expecting. The conductor had certainly been surprised once he saw the most wanted man in the British wizarding community casually standing there on the side of the road like any other passerby, but a hidden Confundus Charm had quickly taken care of that little problem, and secured Sirius a ticket straight to Hogsmeade for the heavily discounted price of completely fucking free.

The ride itself, however, had not been nearly as easy to endure. The constant shaking, rocking and shape shifting didn't exactly make for a very smooth and relaxing experience, and Sirius had been forced to fight with every fiber of his being against the violent nausea that had raged inside his stomach for every minute of the trip. Finally arriving at the outskirts of Hogsmeade had felt almost as liberating as escaping Azkaban.

Quickly transforming into his Animagus form, Sirius began making his way through the seemingly empty streets of his favorite village. It was late into the evening hours now, and most of the visitors and locals had either gone home or scurried off to The Three Broomsticks bar to engage in some late night drinking. Sirius reckoned that even if he were to encounter someone, he or she would probably be too drunk or too tired to really care about some stray dog.

Tripping down the winding main road of the quaint little town, he couldn't help but reminisce about the old days, when him and the other Marauders would come here to drink Butterbeer or buy ridiculously overpriced candy or laugh at Severus standing outside the potions shop with such a childish look in his eyes. It had been a good period of his life, a happy period. Even now, looking back so many years later, Sirius felt a deep sense of gratitude for the time he had been allowed to spend here. The memories he had from the time at Hogwarts gave him strength in moments of hardship and darkness. Memories of the time before the Great War happened, before Voldemort happened, before the Order happened. Memories from before any of his friends died.

Growling lightly, he continued on his path, inwardly cursing himself for allowing such thoughts to occupy his mind at a time like this. Right now, he had to be focused. His Godson was in trouble. That was all that mattered for the time being. Harry needed him now more than ever, especially if the recent news were anything to go by.

_But how will he feel about meeting me, though? Surely he knows that I am wanted for mass murder by now? Will he be afraid? Has he bought into the Ministry's lies yet? I suppose only time will tell…_

Upping the pace ever so slightly, Sirius pushed away all such thoughts before strengthening his resolve and setting course straight for the school grounds. Despite everything, he knew that Hogwarts was the place he needed to be right now, no matter whether his godson wanted him there or not.

* * *

**The Forbidden Forest**

Letting out a grunt of annoyance, Nymphadora Tonks continued on her way through the dense forest, running into branches and other painful vegetation every couple of seconds. She was seriously starting to reconsider this whole Auror thing, especially considering her current situation.

 _Babysitting the wizarding worlds' biggest celebrity really wasn't what I imagined myself doing when I signed up to be an Auror for the DMLE…_ Tonks thought to herself as she brushed away a couple of stray leaves that had gotten tangled up in her hair. _Sure, he's a very important person and all, and I get that he might need protection from possibly enemies, but… WHY ME?_

So far, the assignment had been a complete bitch to work. Due to the Hogwarts Wards, Tonks had been forced to Apparate into the Forbidden Forest, which she had never really liked to begin with (not that a lot of people liked the Forbidden Forest anyway). The ghastly smell of death that hung over the place really didn't make it all that appealing, and coupled with its constant fog and vicious creatures, made it an all-around BAD location to be in. It was definitely in her top ten list of worst places on Planet Earth, and that list was quite extensive to boot.

After stumbling her way through the forest for another couple of minutes, she finally spotted her destination in the distance. The trees were beginning to clear up now, giving her a much clearer view of the massive stone castle that was Hogwarts. No matter how many times she saw it, the building never ceased to amaze her.

_Alright, now all that remains is to find the Potter boy, and this assignment can begin for real._

Taking a deep breath to calm her surprisingly shaky nerves, Nymphadora finally allowed her body to change and contort into the shape of a fly. The whole thing felt mildly uncomfortable to say the least, especially considering the shape and structure of the creature she was changing into, but she was rapidly getting used to her new form. Carefully testing her newly grown wings, she was delighted to feel herself lifting up from the ground, gaining altitude faster than she had expected. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all?

_Okay, I can definitely work with this… Watch out Hogwarts, Tonks is coming home!_

* * *

**Headmaster's Office**

Albus was in the middle of extracting a memory for use in the Pensieve when he felt the presence of a new visitor within the Hogwarts Wards. The keystone controlling all of the protective enchantments of the castle had been directly linked to Albus's blood when he took over as Headmaster, and thus, he could always sense whenever someone left or entered the school grounds. This particular presence felt oddly familiar though, as if the person had been to Hogwarts before.

Dropping the newly extracted memory into a nearby empty vial, Albus carefully placed it on the shelf where he kept such things before turning around to face his desk. He had to figure out the identity of this foreign visitor, and why he or she had come here to Hogwarts. Sadly, the Wards couldn't tell him who the person was without him manually touching the keystone, and such a thing would require him to go to the lower levels of the Dungeons where it was kept. Luckily enough for him though, he was the Headmaster of this place, and that allowed him and him only to Apparate within the school grounds.

It only took him a moment to reposition to the Dungeons, where he found himself standing right in front of a rather large and intricately detailed Vault Door. Pulling out his wand, Albus pointed it at the massive door and cast the necessary spell required to unlock it, and stood back as it slowly swung open for him. Inside, he could already see the faint glow of the keystone, floating a couple of inches above ground on a pedestal in the middle of the vault room.

Approaching it, he wasted no time in taking the rather small item into his hand, instantly feeling its magic surge through him. Inside his mind, he could feel the presence of every single student and staff member currently at Hogwarts, complete with a full list of all their names. Therefore, it didn't take him long to locate the new visitor and figure out who she was.

 _Nymphadora Tonks?_ he thought to himself, furrowing his brows in confusion. _What is she doing here? Doesn't she work for the DMLE these days?_

Tracing her signature across the ground, Albus watched as her presence made its way towards the Ravenclaw Tower, moving faster than any human could.

_She is moving too quickly to be on foot… Must be in a different form then. She is a known metamorphmagus, if I recall correctly. But why is she here? And why is she heading for Ravenclaw Tower?_

Doing a quick sweep of the building, Albus rapidly compiled a list of everyone present in the Tower, making sure to count every single person there. It didn't take him long to realize which one she was likely after.

_Harry Potter, currently located in the boys' dormitory in Ravenclaw Tower. If I were to guess, that is most likely Miss Tonks' target. But what could she possibly want with him? And why haven't the DMLE notified me of this visit?_

Every revelation kept on leading to more questions, so Albus ultimately decided that the best course of action here was probably to simply wait and see what would happen. It was obvious that Miss Tonks likely wasn't here to hurt Harry, so letting her run free wasn't too big of a risk for Albus to take. And even if she did do something bad, he could simply Apparate to her position and deal with her himself, if such a thing became necessary.

_If it is as I suspect, she is here on an unofficial mission from the DMLE. And if that is the case, then this might just be the perfect opportunity to gain some leverage on Amelia. Leverage I can use against her in the future, if the situation requires it._

And so Albus decided to simply do nothing, and continue to watch as Nymphadora Tonks steadily approached Ravenclaw Tower.

* * *

**Ravenclaw Tower, Boys' Dormitory**

Meanwhile, inside the actual Tower itself, Harry was currently sitting perfectly still in the Lotus position, completely unaware of the fact that both his Godfather and an Auror from the DMLE were making their way towards him. The reason for his pose was of course because he was practicing his Occlumency. He had been sitting like that for nearly half an hour now, emptying his head of static.

His mind an endless sea of darkness, Harry finally let himself be fully engulfed by the void, his Occlumency barriers strengthening drastically as he did so. Sitting on his bed on the other side of the room was Luna Lovegood, watching over him as he worked, her eyes sparkling a deep shade of silver. She was taking her role as his impromptu teacher rather seriously, and as such, never made a sound during his training, even when he remained completely silent for hours on end. She simply sat there, looking at him with those silvery eyes of hers, never faltering or lowering her gaze in the slightest.

Then finally, after what felt like a small eternity, Harry let himself return to the present, mentally dragging himself back out of the dark abyss that had formed in his mind. Opening his eyes and looking over at Luna, he shot her a satisfied smile as he got up from his sitting position on the floor.

"That was a good one," he remarked, stretching out his back with a small groan. "It looks like all this training is finally starting to pay off."

"Yes, it would appear so," Luna answered, giving him a smile of her own in return. "You are able to concentrate for longer periods of time without fail now, indicating that your skills in the arts of Occlumency are indeed growing."

"But a good deal of that progress is due to you, Luna," Harry nodded, unwilling to accept sole responsibility for his rapid development. "Without you and those tricks you taught me, it would've taken me hours just to get my head empty enough to do actual Occlumency."

"That may be so, but you are a fast learner, Harry. You would've eventually made it this far on your own as well."

"Just take the compliment, Luna," he sighed, shaking his head in exasperation at the blonde girl. Why did she always have to be so modest and understanding? It wasn't normal for a human to be so considerate of others.

"As you wish," she replied with a smile, gently tapping the bed next to her. Accepting her invitation, Harry let himself fall onto the soft mattress, his mind all but exhausted after the rigorous workout. Training oneself in the mind arts was a tiresome process that required an intense amount of concentration, after all. It was necessary for him to do, of course, but it was still a complete pain.

Feeling his strength slowly returning to him, Harry tried to sit back up again, but found himself unable to do so as Luna cuddled up next to him on the bed and started using his chest as a pillow.

"This again, Luna?" he sighed, inwardly praying that none of the boys would come in to find them in such a… compromising position.

"It feels good when you play with my hair," she stated, her childish tone of voice somehow making her sound even more childlike and adorable than usual. Figuring he didn't exactly have much of a choice, Harry absentmindedly began running his fingers through her golden locks, willfully ignoring the soft moans that occasionally leaked out of Luna's mouth.

Despite its weirdness, this had actually become a rather normal occurrence lately, with Harry stroking Luna's hair like this after they were done with a session of Occlumency training. At first, it had felt a little awkward to be doing something so… physical… with her, but he had quickly accepted that this was his life now, and that there was no denying Luna anything once she pulled out the "innocent and adorable child" act.

"Harry, I have a question…" she suddenly piped up, breaking the silence that had reigned for the past couple of minutes.

"Fire away."

"Do you think about sex a lot?"

"Totally... I mean, WHAT?!" His mind grinding to a halt, Harry stared down at the girl laying on his chest with wide eyes, a look of complete shock coloring his features. Why in Godric's name would she ask him something like that?

"I didn't mean to upset you," she continued, her tone dead serious despite the rather embarrassing nature of the subject. "It's just that, my father recently told me that we were approaching that age where guys start to think about stuff like that, and seeing as you are the only male friend I have, I figured I could ask you about it."

"Uhhh… Well, I mean… Ehh…" Struggling to come up with a good answer to her question, Harry desperately tried to think of a way to change the subject topic as fast as possible. It was not like the concept of sex was completely foreign to him, he was an aging teenage boy after all, so of course he had thought about it. But he didn't exactly feel like sharing such intimate details with Luna, especially not now, considering their current… situation.

"On top of that, I have to admit, I am very curious about how it feels to engage in such an act. If I asked you, would you say yes to doing it with me in the future, Harry? I wouldn't mind having you as my first."

His brain going completely haywire, Harry could do nothing but utter unintelligible gibberish as he considered the implications of Luna's statement. The fact that she was seemingly okay with the idea of him taking her virginity set his blood ablaze, and made his heart beat faster than what was probably healthy. You see, despite being a very rational individual, Harry was still a hormonal teenager at heart, and having a girl literally ask you if you would be okay with banging her was more than his brain could handle at the moment.

"… You aren't saying much, Harry. Are you feeling well? Do you want something to drink?"

"N… No, I-I'm fine, Luna… Please, just… Stop asking me about this!"

"Oh, so I take it you don't want to sleep with me then?"

"NO! I mean, i-its not like I'd have a problem with it... BUT NO!"

"Hey, it's okay, Harry. All of this is purely hypothetical. We are still far too young to be seriously considering losing our virginity. I'd just like you to know that, as of right now, you are the only one I'd be okay sleeping with."

"That's… very kind of you, Luna," Harry breathed, his heartrate finally beginning to even out again. "But please... at least give a guy a small warning or something before you drop such a bombshell in the future."

"… Okay. I'll take that into consideration, Harry."

"Thanks. That's all I ask…"

"…"

A moment of silence passed then, before Luna spoke up again.

"Why did you stop stroking my hair? Keep going, please."

* * *

**Somewhere in England**

Madison groaned in discomfort as her brain gradually started booting back up again. Her head hurt like crazy, and memories of the past couple of hours started popping up at random intervals, making little to no sense out of order. With considerable effort, she forced her eyes to open, her eyelids feeling more like sandbags than anything else.

Everything around her was pitch black. No matter where she looked, all she could see was never-ending darkness stretching out in all directions, containing not even the faintest trace of light. At first, this confused her, as she couldn't understand why everything was so dark. But then, it hit her. The memories that had, up until now, not made any sense, suddenly fell into place.

She had been out drinking with a couple of her friends, celebrating Audrey's engagement to Jake. The two of them had been dating ever since high school, so it was about time they finally "tied the knot". It had been a happy evening, one filled with smiles, laughter, tequila and good music. Madison had never seen Audrey so full of happiness and excitement before, constantly smiling and laughing, as if everything was finally as it should be.

When the party finally started dying down a couple of hours later, and it was time for the girls to return home, Madison had teamed up with Jessica who lived in the same area as her. The two girls had walked down the empty streets of the little town together, singing and laughing as they did. Despite it being rather late in the evening, neither of the two girls had felt unsafe, seeing as they had lived in this place for as long as they could remember, and knew every street and every alley by heart.

But after that, the memories just… stopped. The last thing Madison could remember from that evening was seeing a flash of light somewhere in her peripheral vision, before everything went dark.

Sighing quietly to herself, she tried moving her sore body to get out of the uncomfortable position she was laying in; but was surprised to find herself unable to do so, her arms and legs seemingly tied together. Surprise quickly shifted to panic as her brain finally came to a consensus on what had most likely happened.

She had been kidnapped. That was the only thing that made sense now. The only answer she could think of. Someone had seen her and Jessica stumbling down the street and decided to take advantage of the situation. They could hardly put up much of a fight, after all, considering how drunk the two of them had been. And the reason she couldn't see anything or move her arms and legs, was probably because the kidnapper had tied her up and put something on her head.

Her adrenalin levels spiking at the realization, Madison desperately tried to force herself out of her restraints, but it was to no avail. The rope that had been used to tie her up was simply too resilient. She wasn't strong enough to break out of it. Next, she tried screaming, but that didn't work either, as her voice came out muffled and distorted due to the cloth someone had stuck in her mouth.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening made her stop, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. The sound was followed up by another one, this one that of footsteps gradually becoming louder and louder as they approached. Someone else had entered the room… and was coming straight towards her.

"Hmphrg! Arrrg!" Madison tried screaming, but it was useless. The sound came out muted and faint. She was at the complete mercy of whoever had kidnapped her, and there was nothing she could do to escape.

"Ahh, I see the little princess has finally woken up," a foreign voice said, the shrill and raspy sound of it sending waves of terror down Madison's spine. "And just in time for the ceremony as well! What good timing!"

Feeling rough hands grabbing ahold of her, she couldn't help but let out a whimper of fear as she was lifted off the ground and placed on top of the unknown man's shoulders.

"You should be happy, you know," the foreign voice continued as they started moving, Madison's head bobbing up and down violently with each step he took. "Not everyone gets to have the honor of participating in the Dark Lord's revival."

_Dark Lord…?_

"If I were you, I'd praise my lucky stars for the opportunity to serve him in such a fashion."

Muffled screaming was the only answer Madison could give, and the man chuckled as he heard her struggling.

"You really are one lively little rat, aren't you? Well, not to worry; you'll be free soon enough."

Suddenly, they came to an abrupt halt, and Madison was dumped unceremoniously on the ground, her face crashing painfully into the cold hard concrete below. The taste of blood welled up in her mouth as she groaned in agony, but just like the before, the man simply laughed at her suffering.

"Time for you to open your eyes, little princess."

Madison flinched as blinding light filled her vision, breaking apart the darkness that her eyes had grown accustomed to. The man had removed the thing over her head, allowing her to finally get a good look of her surroundings. She appeared to be in some sort of abandoned apartment complex, the living room in front of her all but broken down after years of misuse. Dust, grime and dirt littered every surface of the room, and the whole place reeked of death.

But that wasn't all she saw when she opened her eyes. She also spotted Jessica, sitting on her knees in the middle of the room with a knife pushed up against her throat. Behind her, a man in a black robe stood, an ornamental mask portraying the head of a skeleton covering his face. On the ground beneath them, a huge circle was drawn, looking an awful lot like the satanic pentagrams Madison had seen online.

As soon as she made eye contact with Jessica, the two girls immediately burst into tears. It was obvious that Jessica was just as scared as Madison, her frail body shaking fiercely under the grip of the black-robed man.

"Rejoice, o you lost ones!" the shrill voice of her captor said in an almost ceremonial tone, cutting the girls' reunion short in an abrupt manner. "For you have been given PURPOSE! On this glorious day, you have been chosen as the ones who are going to help bring back the Lord of Darkness! He who will tear down this worlds' heretics and sinners, and rise above them as their rightful master!"

As he chanted, the circle underneath Jessica gradually started glowing, its red light coloring the walls and ceiling a deep shade of crimson. The man in the black robe looked down at the light, and took a firmer grip around the knife he was holding. He was preparing for something…

"I ask that you accept these girls' souls into your own, Master, and that you feed off them and grow stronger! They will be sacrificed in your name, and your name only!"

_Sacrificed?!_

Madison was feeling the hysteria beginning to set in now, her panic elevating to new heights as she watched the light coming from the ground growing more and more intense by the second.

"TAKE HER SOUL, MASTER! TAKE IT AND GROW!"

As he screamed out those horrible words, the black-robed man tensed up, before jerking the knife to the side in one swift motion. Madison locked eyes with Jessica in that instant, as her throat was slit open from left to right. She maintained eye contact through it all, even when the blood started flowing from the now open wound, coloring her friends' skin red and dripping down on the floor beneath her.

Something happened then, when the blood made contact with the circle on the ground. A deep rumble shook the entire building, and loud whispers filled the air. The whole experience was so surreal that Madison could do nothing but silently scream into the cloth covering her mouth as the lifeless corpse of her friend slumped to the ground, the blood from her slit throat starting to pool around her head.

"YES! YES!" the man with the shrill voice laughed, standing with his arms held high in some wicked display of piety. "IT'S PERFECT! MASTER, SHE IS YOURS NOW! TAKE HER!"

The rumbling continued, shaking the building with supernatural force. It didn't really matter to Madison anymore, though. She had long since lost her mind now, her sanity snapped with the sight of one of her best friends being sacrificed to some death god right in front of her. Therefore, she didn't even react when the black-robed man walked over to her and grabbed her arm, her emotions all but gone at this point. She knew she was going to die, so why resist it?

Dragging her into the middle of the circle, the robed man forced her to her knees, right in front of her dead friend. The man with the shrill voice resumed his chanting, but Madison was no longer paying attention to it. She wasn't really paying attention to much of anything all, to be honest. Her mind was broken, fragmented and shattered. She could do nothing but stare pathetically down at her friends' corpse as the moment of her death approached. Once it finally came, she felt the cold metal of the knife being pushed up against her throat. The last thing she thought of before it cut her open was home, and how she would never get to meet Audrey's children or attend their wedding. It was a sad thought, but death came swiftly, and soon enough, the girl known as Madison was no more.


	12. Act 1: A Powerful Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**Hogwarts Dungeons**

Letting out a murmur of disappointment, Dumbledore used one hand to carefully stroke through the length of his beard. He had been watching over the unannounced guest for what had to be close to 30 minutes now, and so far, she had made no attempts at making contact with the young Harry Potter. She seemed content merely watching over him, as if monitoring his movements with great interest. Albus could only guess as to what her true intentions were, but for now, it seemed Harry had nothing to fear.

_Why come all the way out here on unofficial orders just to watch over him, though? What is Amelia's endgame here?_

As he was pondering this question, a sudden tug at his magic alerted him to yet ANOTHER visitor entering the range of the Hogwarts wards. His eyes darting back to the list of names, Albus quickly scanned through it to see who this new stranger was. His heart practically skipped a beat as he read out the name displayed in front of him.

_Sirius Black!? … So, he has finally decided to make his move._

Despite his reaction, Albus had been expecting this to happen for quite some time now. After hearing the news of Sirius's escape from Azkaban, he had quickly surmised that the now wanted fugitive would want to get in contact with his Godson, Harry. It was only natural, after all. Watching over Harry HAD been Lily's and James final request of him. Of course Sirius would seek to carry out this mission.

_I'm sorry, old friend, but I cannot allow you to meet with him. He has to believe that you're the reason his parents died. Otherwise, all of my plans will come crumbling down. And I've worked too hard to let you come along and ruin it all._

"Fawkes!" Albus cried out, his trustworthy phoenix materializing in the air next to him within second. "I need you to carry this message to Professor McGonagall."

Letting out a soft trill, the bird fixed him with a suspicious stare before landing on his outstretched arm. Lately, the bond between Albus and Fawkes had become surprisingly strained. For some reason, it seemed the bird had come to harbor a deep sense of disappointment in him, seemingly coming about due to his recent choices. This confused Albus, as in his eyes, he had done no wrong. But for now, the bird still came to him whenever he called for it, so Albus figured it was probably just a phase that would ultimately pass given time.

"The message is this…" he said, leaning in and whispering what he wanted conveyed into the bird's ears. Once he was finished, Fawkes let out yet another trill, before taking off again and vanishing within the blink of an eye.

_Alright, with that taken care of… All that remains to be done is wait._

Turning his attention back to the keystone floating in the air in front of him, Albus felt the beginnings of a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. These two hopeful ruffians thought they could come into HIS domain, HIS school, and try to make contact with the Potter boy without his explicit consent?

_Good try, Sirius. Good try, Nymphadora. But this is my school. My territory. And I'm not going to let you get away this time._

* * *

**Ravenclaw Common Room**

Meanwhile, in the Ravenclaw common room, Harry was currently busy flipping through page after page in his Transfiguration textbook, looking for the chapter on Water Manipulation. Him and Hermione was working on next months' homework together, and had gotten a little stuck trying to change the contents of a vial of water into oil.

"Hey, I think I might have found it…" Hermione suddenly piped up, dragging his attention away from the textbook and back to her deeply focused brown eyes.

"Oh? So what's the solution?"

"Well, it says here that in order to successfully transfigure and change the properties of liquids, you have to channel your magic in a different way than when you transfigure regular, solid material," she started, slipping into "teacher" mode without even noticing it. "You must firmly envision each individual droplet of liquid in your mind, and then gradually change their base qualities to your liking as you're casting the spell. You can't just think "oh, I want this body of water to change into oil", you have to think "I want each individual drop of this water to change into a thick, oily substance"."

Despite its heavy-handed nature, Harry quickly picked up on the idea behind it, and nodded to Hermione before turning his attention back to the vials of water they had been supplied with by Professor McGonagall. Change each individual droplet, huh? He reckoned he could do that.

Before he even got the chance to start his incantation, though, Hermione broke his concentration once more by asking a truly bizarre question.

"Uhh, Harry, have you given any more thought to what you are going to do this summer?"

His mind momentarily blanking out, Harry fixed her with a dumbstruck stare before seemingly regaining his composure.

"Oh, eh… I don't know yet, actually. I mean, I COULD always go back to the Dursleys, but believe it or not, I don't actually enjoy being verbally abused. I doubt they'd be able to physically hurt me anymore, considering how afraid they seem to be of my magic lately, but I still don't feel entirely comfortable going back there."

Her body shuddering ever so slightly, Hermione shook her head in agreement. She didn't have anything positive to say about Harry's aunt and uncle either, considering the way they had treated Harry ever since he arrived on their doorstep. What type of wretched people would abuse a fellow family member the way they had? Punish and maim such a young, innocent boy, who had just lost his parents in a horrible accident? It was simply inhuman.

"Chances are I'm probably just going to find a nice hotel somewhere in London and settle down there until the end of the vacation. That way, I don't have to deal with… them… what so ever, and I'll get to catch up on some studies. Plus, it's not like I don't have the money to afford it."

"Hmm…"

Looking oddly conflicted, Hermione's face slowly started taking on a faint shade of crimson. The telltale traces of a blush were beginning to creep its way across her face, and before long, she had turned her eyes downwards to avoid eye contact entirely.

"Uhh… Hermione?" Harry asked, not really understanding her reaction. Was it something he had said?

"Then… then how about coming to live with me this summer? I'll ask my parents for permission, and, knowing your story, I highly doubt they'll say no. Plus, we have a guest room that's hardly ever used, so you could probably use that…"

Letting her sentence trail off, a deafening silence filled the space between them. The rest of the room was far from silent, though, with several students spread out across the space, engaged in all manner of activities. But the table Harry and Hermione occupied was completely mute, not a single sound escaping from either one of them. With every second that passed, the blush on Hermione's face seemed to deepen, and it didn't take long before she started fidgeting as well.

Finally, Harry opened his mouth and broke the silence between them.

"Ehh… Wow, I… I really don't know what to say… But I guess that sounds… nice?" he started, not quite sure how to formulate himself. Spending the summer with Hermione certainly did beat staying alone at a hotel, but was it really okay for them to live so… closely together?

"Hey, before you get any ideas, it's not like we're going to be sharing a room or anything like that! I'll sleep in my room, and you in yours!" Hermione exclaimed in response, crossing her arms in front of her chest in a show of childish defiance. "A-and I'll be s-sure to let my parents know that we're just friends! Yeah, that's right! Friends!"

Feeling incredibly embarrassed, Harry shifted his point of view away from Hermione to stare at the wall instead. Uttering a quick "yeah, totally" in agreement, he nodded his head before coughing in an attempt at clearing up his now semi-blocked throat. Godric, why was his heart beating so rapidly all of a sudden?

The awkward atmosphere continued on for a few more minutes before Hermione finally shook her head and let out a sigh.

"Just… please try to act normal around my parents, okay? I don't want you freaking them out with your chilly attitude and borderline sociopathic personality."

"Uhm… Ouch? But okay, I'll try my best to be… well, not as much ME as usual then, I guess," Harry shrugged, looking back down at the open book in front of him. He supposed he did have a tendency of being rather cold towards others, so Hermione's claims weren't entirely uncalled for.

"That's all I ask. Now then, with that settled, let's get back to work…" she started, only to be interrupted yet again, this time by the door to the common room swinging open.

To their great surprise, Professor Flitwick came waltzing in, dressed in nothing but his nightgown. The small half-goblin stopped in the middle of the room, before clearing his throat and speaking up to get everyone's attention.

"Attention, everyone! I have just been informed by Professor McGonagall that all students are to remain in their dormitories for the rest of the evening. An incident involving a Dementor has apparently taken place on school grounds, and as such, the Headmaster wants all students to refrain from wandering around the hallways until the cause of the accident has been made clear!"

Speaking in a formal tone of voice, the tiny Professor took a small break to make sure everyone was still paying attention, before continuing:

"So, from this moment on, leaving the common room is strictly forbidden, and any attempts at doing so will be met with harsh punishment. We hope you will respect this, seeing as it is for your own safety. That is all."

Immediately after the Professor had left the common room, a sea of murmurs and whispers exploded amongst the students. Everyone was wondering what had happened, and how serious it must have been for the entire school to be put under lockdown.

"Huh. That's weird… Another Dementor incident? Do you reckon it might be something similar to when you were attacked, Harry?" Hermione mused, her eyebrows furrowing in thought.

"Hmm… maybe. The Dementor that attacked me certainly didn't hesitate. It came straight for me, as if it had already made up its mind way before we met in the hallway."

"But… if that's truly what happened now as well… then this whole situation is just ridiculous! If the Ministry can't even control the Dementors, why would the Headmaster allow them to keep them here on school grounds?! It makes no sense!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes widening in anger. "The Dementors are supposed to protect the students, not attack them!"

"Hey, I'm with you on this one. But something about this whole thing just seems kind of… off… to me. When I was attacked, they certainly didn't put the school on lockdown. Heck, I don't think they even told anyone about it!"

"… Now that you mention it… Yeah, they didn't actually do anything back then. The last thing we were told was that Madam Pomfrey was going to "inform the Headmaster" about the incident, and since then, we haven't heard a thing…" Hermione muttered in response, her mouth drawn into a strict line.

"…"

A moment of silence passed then, before Harry finally spoke up again.

"You already know that I have to investigate this, Hermione."

Letting out a sigh, she nodded her head, her brown curls swaying lightly as she did so.

"Yes, I do… Usually, I'd be against this, but… This time, I think you should go. You still have your Cloak of Invisibility, I hope?"

"Yeah, it's upstairs. Thank you, by the way… for being so understanding," Harry smiled, making Hermione's heart soar just a bit.

"Oh go on, I'm only agreeing to this ONCE. It's not going to happen again, so enjoy it while you can!" she snickered in reply, ignoring the slight drumming sensation in her chest.

Watching him disappear up the stairs, Hermione sat in silence and waited for Harry to return. Two minutes passed. Five minutes passed. Once ten minutes had passed, just as Hermione was starting to wonder if something had perhaps gone wrong, she felt a slight tug at her robes. Looking down, she saw a part of it floating ominously in the air, and for a second almost forgot that it was Harry lifting it up. Nodding to where she presumed he would be standing, she got up from the table and slowly started moving towards the door leading out of the common room.

Taking a quick look around her, she made sure no one was paying close attention to her before silently swinging open the door, praying to Merlin that no one would be standing on the other side. To her great relief, however, the coast was clear, and she felt a slight rush of wind next to her as Harry brushed past her and left the room.

Silently wishing him good luck, she closed the door after him, let out a short sigh and started heading towards the girls' dormitory.

* * *

**Hogwarts Hallways**

The hallways were eerily silent as Harry made his way through the castle, his footsteps echoing loudly in the absence of other sound. It wasn't unusual for it to be this silent past curfew, seeing as all the students would be in their dormitories at that time, but now, it felt… different, somehow. As if the very castle itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Still though, that didn't deter Harry from continuing his little venture, seeing as this wasn't exactly his first time sneaking around with the Cloak of Invisibility. He had actually lost count of all the times he had snuck out to spend some time in the Hogwarts Library's restricted section after dark, his curious nature naturally drawn to those old, dusty tomes that he normally could not access. The pursuit of knowledge was one of Harry's absolute favorite pastimes, after all, his brain turning giddy with excitement at the prospect of learning more and more about the world around him.

This time though, it wasn't books he was looking for. No, tonight, he was out to check whether or not Professor Flitwick had actually been told the truth, or if the Headmaster was just full of shit.

_But what reason would the Headmaster have for lying about something like this? What does he stand to gain from having all of the students stay in their dorms a little earlier than usual?_

Contemplating this question, he continued on his way, not noticing the tiny fly that had just landed on the top of his head and crawled down underneath his hood to hide in his hair.

After walking for a couple of minutes, Harry suddenly sensed the presence of someone else coming from up ahead, and pushed himself towards the wall in an effort to remain hidden. Holding his breath, he waited for the person to come around the corner.

To his surprise, though, what came wandering down the hallway wasn't a person at all. No, it was a flea-ridden black dog, its tongue sticking out of its mouth as it went along.

Feeling slightly conflicted on what to do, Harry ultimately decided to approach the dog, seeing as it didn't seem hostile.

"Hey there, buddy…" he called out, pulling back his hood to reveal himself and stepping out of the shadows.

What happened next was wholly unexpected, as the dog seemed to freeze completely upon seeing him. It stood stock-still, rooted in place with an unreadable expression on its face. Its black eyes regarded him with a mixture of shock, disbelief and happiness, and Harry found himself wondering whether or not he had somehow done something bad to this dog in the past for it to react to him this way.

But then, the animal suddenly sprang to life, bolting towards him with newfound intensity. Harry, feeling incredibly confused by all this, simply remained where he was, waiting for the dog to inevitably tackle him to the ground or something along those lines.

Once it finally reached him, however, the dog proceeded to bark happily and wag its tail, before standing up on its hind legs to lean against his body. Letting out a soft sigh, Harry bent down to scratch the animal behind its ears, at which point the dog started enthusiastically licking him in the face.

"Oh, ah, ey, come on, buddy," Harry grunted, trying to reposition his face so the dog would have a harder time licking him. "That tickles!"

Fixing him with an overjoyed stare, the dog finally stopped planting wet kisses on his face, choosing to pant heavily instead.

"I've never seen you around here before… Maybe you're someone's pet?" Harry murmured to himself, inspecting the animal to see if it had a collar or a name tag, but coming up short. "I know for a fact that Hermione's little monste... I mean cat, Crookshanks, likes to run off every now and then. Maybe you're the same?"

The dog, unsurprisingly enough, offered him no answer, instead choosing to bump its head playfully against his shoulder before jumping back down on all fours. Once it was back to standing on four legs, though, it quickly barked twice before shooting off down the hallway.

"Ah, hey… where are you going?!" Harry asked, standing back up again to follow after it. The dog had now stopped a little ways up ahead, waiting patiently for him to catch up before starting to run again. It was obvious that it wanted Harry to follow it, and, seeing as he didn't really have any other clue as to where he should go, he decided to go along with it.

Running down hallway after hallway, the couple gradually made their way deeper and deeper into Hogwarts.

After following the black dog for some time, Harry finally started to realize where the animal was most likely taking him. Judging by its current route, the dog was most likely heading for the seventh floor of Hogwarts, also known as the home of the Room of Requirement. Pondering the significance of this particular detail as they went along, Harry absentmindedly noted that they had yet to run into anyone else on their little stroll through the castle, a fact that might have disturbed him more if he wasn't so absorbed in following this strange animal.

Then finally, after running up the staircase leading up to the seventh floor, they arrived at what appeared to be their destination. A completely ordinary hallway, not unlike any of the other hallways they had rushed through on their way here. To an unsuspecting student, this would perhaps be where the mystery came to an unexplainable end. But Harry instinctively knew where the dog wanted to take him.

_So it was the Room of Requirement after all… But why? How could a dog possibly know about the location of the Room?_

Looking down at his furry companion, he was surprised to see it staring intently at the wall, as if attempting to will the room into existence on its own. Just as he was about to open his mouth to talk to it, something absolutely ludicrous happened.

The great iron door leading in to the Room of Requirement suddenly materialized on the wall, as if responding to the dog's wishes.

Harry could do nothing but stare on in utter bewilderment and shock as the dog waltzed over to the door, and pushed it open with its head.

"Wait, no, that's not how… this is supposed to work…" he muttered, scratching his chin in confusion.

"Woof!" the dog barked in response, as if it had understood what he had just said.

"You want me… to follow you? In there?"

"Woof, woof!"

"… A-alright then. Lead the way."

Turning around with an unreadable expression on its face, the dog marched into the darkness of the room.

 _What in the world have I gotten myself into?_ Harry thought to himself as he followed after it.

* * *

**Room of Requirement**

As if the dogs' summoning of the Room hadn't been shocking enough, it had seemingly also decided on what form it wanted the room to take. As Harry walked inside and closed the door behind him, an exact replica of the Gryffindor common room stretched out in front of him, complete with a warm fire sparkling in the fireplace.

"Oh wow…" he started, looking down at the dog once more. He was now 99 percent sure that this animal was not just some everyday pet. After all, Harry had a hard time imagining Crookshanks being able to summon the Room, much less any other pet. No, there was something inherently different about this one, something foreign that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Before he got the chance to mull this over any further, though, the dog started… shifting, right in front of his eyes. It was as if its entire body started boiling, causing waves to ripple through what should otherwise have been solid flesh. Its muscles and bones started changing, growing longer and more pronounced, and its tail shrank back into its body, disappearing beneath the surge of rolling flesh. Before long, the dogs' appearance had shifted to resemble that of a man in his thirties, dressed in simple brown robes.

The man, standing with his back turned towards Harry, was breathing heavily, as if he had just went for a long run and was trying to recover his breath.

Pulling out his wand, Harry immediately took a couple of steps away from the stranger, keeping his eyes locked on him at all times. A strange sense of foreboding washed over him at the sight of the man's black, curly hair, and he had to fight to maintain his composure.

"You're… Sirius Black, aren't you?" Harry asked, making sure to keep his voice perfectly even, betraying none of his true emotions.

"…"

The man chose to remain silent, before slowly turning around to face Harry. Once the light illuminated his entire face, Harry's heart immediately jerked in his chest, as if responding to some foreign stimuli that it had not experienced in years.

The man that Harry instantly recognized as Sirius Black had a gaunt, sunken face, with two rows of yellow teeth lining the inside of his mouth. His skin looked pale and unhealthy, and his long, black hair was faded and fringed in several areas, looking more like an unruly birds' nest than anything else. His eyes were wild and unhinged, carrying with them a hint of madness. To Harry, he looked as close to a living corpse as one could possibly come.

"H… Harry…" Sirius breathed, his jaw trembling under the weight of his name. "It's… been so long, I…"

"And it will be longer still, if I decide that you're a threat. You make as much as ONE sudden movement, and I'll stun you before you even manage to draw your next breath," Harry replied, his eyes cold and uncaring as he lifted his wand even higher than before.

"W-why… would you… Do you think I'm a threat? Do you think… I'm dangerous? Don't you know? I could never hurt you," Sirius muttered, his lips quivering as he spoke. "You're their son. Their one and only son. I'd die before I let anything happen to you."

"That's odd, considering this is our first time meeting. Why do you care so much about me?" Harry asked, a hint of confusion entering his voice. "I know that you're supposed to be my Godfather, but I can't remember meeting you before. To me, you're nothing but a stranger, and a dangerous stranger at that."

Harry could see that his words were hurting Sirius, but he didn't particularly care. He didn't owe his Godfather anything, and would not hesitate to put him down if the situation demanded it.

"So, you know then… You know that I am your Godfather, yet you still treat me this way? Surely you understand that I mean you no harm?!" Sirius exclaimed, his voice growing louder with each word he spoke.

"I KNOW NOTHING OF THE SORT!" Harry shouted back, letting the anger get the better of him, his eyes shining a deep shade of emerald. "I know that you're a criminal, and that you are wanted for the murder of twelve innocent people!"

"I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT! PETER WAS THE ONE WHO KILLED THOSE MUGGLES!"

"THEN PROVE IT! Prove it to me right here and now, and I may consider lowering this wand!"

With a shaky arm, Sirius reached for his own wand before stopping, suddenly remembering the fact that Harry didn't trust him what so ever. Looking up and into his eyes, Sirius gave him a hard look, gesturing towards his wand with his other hand, waiting for Harry to give him the go ahead before grabbing it.

Breathing heavily, Harry ever so slowly nodded his head, getting ready to fire off a _Stupify_ at the slightest hint of trouble.

Having received the signal that it was okay for him to use it, Sirius wrapped his slender fingers around his wands' wooden handle, before deliberately bringing it up in front of his chest. Closing his eyes for just a moment, he imagined the face of his unrequited lover staring back at him, full of warmth and love. The kind of love she would only ever show to his friend, James Potter.

Feeling the magic surging through his, he unleashed his strongest _Expecto Patronum_ in years, the spell coming from his wand taking on the form of a doe. Her doe.

Standing majestically at the center of the room, the incorporeal creature lifted its head high, before letting out a soft coo of happiness. All traces of sadness and loneliness were wiped from existence then, replaced by an unexplainable warmth emanating from deep within both Sirius's and Harry's heart. It was a beautiful sight to behold, a sight so pure and wonderful that it caused tears to well up in Sirius's eyes. In his mind, he could hear her voice speaking to him. Her soft, dazzling voice, asking him to take care of her only son. Shuddering in response, it was all he could do not to break down crying on the spot.

The moment did not last, though. After a couple of seconds, the magnificent doe gradually started fading from existence, before disappearing completely. The coldness of reality slowly crept its way back into the room, replacing the warm feeling they had both been experiencing with the profound sensation of longing and regret.

Turning back around to face his Godson, Sirius was surprised to see Harry's hands shaking ever so slightly at his sides, the wand now firmly lowered.

A moment of silence passed before either one of them said anything. Then Harry opened his mouth to speak.

"… I… believe you… For now…"

Feeling his heart soar in his chest, Sirius exhaled strongly before proceeding to wipe the tears from his eyes. The Patronus he had summoned earlier had been the product of all of his love and respect for Lily Potter, Harry's mother. He supposed his unadulterated declaration of love had touched something deep within the boy, thus causing him to lower his wand.

"But just so we are clear… I do not trust you. I believe that you are not the mass murderer the Ministry of Magic is making you out to be, but that does not mean I care about you, or even respect you. All it means is that I'm willing to hear you out," Harry continued, letting out a shaky breath of his own before regaining that hard look in his eye.

"I suppose… it would be foolish of me to expect more…" Sirius responded, running a jittery hand through his long hair. "All I ask is that you listen… to my side of the story… before you draw your conclusion. Please… I've waited so long…"

Nodding ever so slightly, Harry gestured towards the couch with one hand whilst pocketing his wand with the other. He was willing to listen to Sirius Black's story, at least for now. He wanted to compare it to the Ministry's and Dumbledore's version, to see if he could get a clearer picture of the situation. It was the rational thing to do, after all.

_Godric, Hermione's totally going to kill me for this…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this initial meeting between Harry and Sirius. It's something I've been building up to for quite some time now, and will continue to explore in the next chapter. The two of them have a lot of catching up to do, after all, but with an anxious Dumbledore hanging over their shoulders, the future is looking uncertain for the both of them. I hope you'll join me next time to see how it all pans out.


	13. Act 1: Revelations and Epiphanies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**Room of Requirement**

The atmosphere in the room was so tense it was palpable. The very air surrounding the two figures seemed to vibrate with intensity, and coupled with the darkness flooding in through the windows of the recreated Gryffindor common room, the space had a certain ominous ambience about it. The two figures currently occupying the space were of course none other than the wanted mass-murderer Sirius Black and his godson, the "Boy-Who-Lived" Harry Potter. They were engaged in what appeared to be a wicked staring contest of sorts, although it was obvious to anyone who took a closer look that this particular contest had no humorous thoughts or intentions behind it.

"Sit." Harry suddenly commanded, breaking the silence and gesturing towards a nearby couch. Sirius, somehow managing to look both conflicted and determined at the same time, cautiously did as he was told. Meanwhile, Harry found a chair of his own, before fixing his godfather with a questioning stare.

Harry… still wasn't too sure how he felt about Sirius. On one hand, the prospect of having his only living relative sitting right there in front of him was admittedly rather exhilarating. He was figuratively dying to bombard the man with questions about his parents, his past, his involvement in the war against the Dark Fuck (more famously known as Voldemort) and everything in between. But, despite this initial excitement, there was still a lot of unknown factors at play here. Harry didn't actually know WHY Sirius was here, or if he was guilty of the things the Ministry claimed he was. On top of that, the man sitting in front of him now did not seem… well… entirely mentally stable.

His godfather seemed to be somewhat jittery, in fact. His body would occasionally produce a shiver of some sort, causing him to twitch and move irrationally. Harry suspected it was simply the result of years of abuse from the Dementors in Azkaban, but he couldn't be too sure. He had never known or even met his godfather before today, so he couldn't tell if he had always been like this or not.

"Harry, I…" Sirius started, only to be cut off by Harry's stern voice a second later.

"What are you doing here at Hogwarts?"

Looking slightly taken aback by his godson's controlling voice, Sirius took a couple of shallow breaths before answering his question.

"I came to see you."

A moment of silence passed as Harry contemplated this answer.

"Is that it?"

"Yes."

"No hidden agenda? No secret plan?"

"No."

"Hm… Well, that's disappointing."

"… What?"

"All this commotion about the dangerous criminal Sirius Black, and you're not even here to cause any trouble. You're simply here because of some misguided notion or hope that you can reconnect with your godson… If that isn't disappointing, then I don't know what is," Harry stated matter-of-factly, letting out a sigh as he finished talking. In reality, Harry wasn't actually all that disappointed by his godfathers' efforts, but he wasn't about to let that show.

"Y-You'd… You'd call my love for you MISGUIDED?!" Sirius shouted in return, growingly increasingly agitated as he spoke. "Stupid boy, you have no clue how much you mean to me! You're the last living link to… to…"

"To Lily and James? To my parents?" Harry finished for him, already guessing what Sirius was getting at.

"… Yes… Yes, to Lily and James. To my best friends…" he muttered back, his hand twitching ever so slightly as he did. "They… they didn't deserve to die… that way. Slaughtered in front of their only child… That fucking bastard… I'll kill Voldemort myself…"

He was mostly rambling now, repeating the phrase "I'll kill him" over and over to himself, his eyes doing a poor job of concealing the wild and unhinged beast that rested within. Sirius Black was a broken man now, after spending years of his life in Azkaban, and Harry wasn't sure if he ever would or could fully recover.

"Sirius," Harry said, his voice firm and unshaking. His godfather immediately stopped rambling and looked at him, as if drawn to his adamant resolve.

"I want you to listen to me, and listen close. Lily and James Potter… are dead. Killing Voldemort won't change that, no matter how badly you might wish it will. You have to face reality: your friends and my parents died that night in Godric's Hollow, and they won't ever return. Because one thing is for certain: once you're dead, you're dead. Nothing more to it."

As he spoke, Harry felt a strange sensation grasping at his heart, a feeling he couldn't quite place rising up inside of him. It felt oddly solemn, as if his words was reaffirming a truth he had known for a long time, but refused to accept before now. Every word he spoke came out crystal clear, like a cool waft of air on a hot summers day, cutting through the heat and washing over the both of them. Yes, his parents were dead, and nothing could ever change that. Life would go on without them, regardless of whether or not anybody wanted it to. Luckily enough though, time would heal almost any wound, and Harry was sure that even a man as deranged as Sirius would eventually come to accept that fact, given enough time to heal.

His words had an immediate effect on his godfather. It was as if a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown over his head, allowing him to think somewhat clearly again. The madness retreated from his eyes, still present but now lingering in the back rather than roaring at the front.

But, just as Harry was about to continue speaking, something… very unexpected happened. A tiny fly flew out from amongst his black bangs, stopping dead clear in front of his face. The little creature then turned to look at him, before seemingly starting to fold in on itself. Twisting and contorting violently, the critter morphed right in front of their stunned eyes, slowly taking on the form of a human. Before long, the fly had completely disappeared, and been replaced by what appeared to be a young, pink-haired female in her early twenties.

"Ahhhh, that feels gooood…" she sighed, her body shuddering ever so slightly. "You have NO idea how awful it is to be stuck as a fly for hours on end. It's like… you're not even human anymore, right?" the girl said, fixing Harry with a shrewd look.

"What in the… A-And who might you be?" he asked, trying to remain composed despite what he had just witnessed.

"Auror Nymphadora Tonks, at your service! But my friends call me Tonks, and so should you, because I'll literally kill you if you don't! I'm not joking about that by the way," she responded, doing a snappy salute before turning her attention over to Sirius instead.

"And you are Sirius Black. It's been a long time, cousin."

The long-haired man simply stared at her in response, his eyes filled to the brim with confusion and suspicion. But then, something happened. His eyes widened. His nostrils flared. And then he remembered.

"N-Nymphadora…? You've grown… so much…"

"Hey, what did I say about the name?! But yeah, I know. Been a good couple of years since we saw each other last. I wish I could say you're looking healthy, but I don't want to lie. Truth be told, you look like shit."

Her casual tone immediately deescalated any sort of tension left in the room, turning the entire situation into something resembling a bad sitcom. Her out-of-place humor really didn't fit the atmosphere, and Harry couldn't help but snort in amusement at her behavior.

"And why, pray tell, are you here today, Nym…"

Just as Harry was about to say her name, Tonks shot him a look so cold he immediately stopped talking, before remembering her earlier statement.

"… Tonks. Why are you here?"

"Oh well, that's kind of a hard question to answer. On paper, I'm not even supposed to be here. So let's just say that some very powerful people have taken an interest in you, Harry," she winked, stretching her oddly flexible back with an audible pop.

"Well, that's hardly surprising. I am The-Boy-Who-Lived after all, I suppose people leaving me alone would be a deviation from the norm at this point," he sighed in return, looking slightly annoyed for just a moment before his face regained its usual shade of indifference.

"That would be an accurate assessment! I am sorry I can't tell you more, but such are the rules… Well, now then, onto an entirely different matter! Namely what to do with you, Sirius," Tonks nodded, her eyes honing in on Harry's godfather yet again. "I'm not gonna lie, proper procedure dictates I bring your ass in. Now, whether or not I choose to do that comes down to what happens in the next couple of minutes."

Sirius, having recovered from the initial shock of seeing his cousin again for the first time in years, suddenly regained his earlier fire.

"What is it you people find so hard to understand?! I am not the enemy here! All this talk of bringing me in when, in reality, we should already be hard at work looking for that fucking traitor Pettigrew!"

"Pettigrew… traitor?" Harry asked, his eyes furrowing ever so slightly in confusion. "How so?"

"It was him all along! I never gave up your parents to the Dark Lord! Pettigrew did! I'm not the traitor here, he is!"

"Wait, hold on… How could Pettigrew tell Voldemort my parents' location if he didn't know where they… were…" Harry's voice trailed off as he finally realized what his godfather was getting at. The pieces all started falling into place, and soon enough, he let out a small gasp as the truth dawned on him.

"You weren't the Secret Keeper of the Fidelius Charm at all, were you Sirius? It was Pettigrew all along! I knew there was something wrong with Dumbledore's story!"

"Exactly! That's exactly right! I would never betray your parents to the Dark Lord, not on my life! They were my best friends! I could never do that to them!"

"But wait a second here… If this is true… Then why didn't you say so when the Ministry caught you in that street? Why didn't you try to defend yourself when they hauled you off to Azkaban for a crime you supposedly didn't commit?" Tonks chimed in, looking mightily confused.

"I tried as hard as I could, believe me, I did. But nobody would listen to a word I said. It was as if… as if they had already determined ahead of time that they wanted to send me to Azkaban… But there was one who knew the truth… Albus. He knew I was innocent. HE KNEW! And yet… he didn't say anything. Didn't come to my defense at all… He let those Ministry bastards drag me off to Azkaban without saying a fucking word…"

A hint of madness returned to Sirius's eyes as he spoke about the Headmaster, madness mixed with an undying, unquenchable hatred for the man. Harry couldn't really blame him though. He suspected he would've been just as angry himself if someone he believed to be his friend backstabbed him so thoroughly. Not that it came as much of a surprise though. Harry had always known Dumbledore was a slippery little bastard, who always micromanaged things to best suit him and him alone. He was probably hooked on some "Grand Plan" that involved him letting Sirius go to Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit.

_I gotta admit, I'm a little impressed. The old man's ruthlessness goes way deeper than I initially expected. I'll have to be more wary of him in the future. Who knows what that meddlesome old fool could have in store for me…_

"Well then… This changes things," Harry muttered, lightly stroking his chin with one hand, not letting the astonishment of the revelation show on his face at all. "First of all, Dumbledore is no longer to be trusted. He might be the most powerful wizard in all of Britain, but he's also a delusional has-been who is hooked on prophecies and "The Greater Good". I believe it's in our best interest to minimize contact with him as much as possible going forward."

Both Sirius and Tonks remained silent as he spoke, their focus fully on him and him alone.

"Secondly, Sirius: now that we know you're innocent, you need to get out of here. Hogwarts isn't safe for you, not with old DumDum running the place. He probably already knows you're here, in fact, and I don't think he's going to just let you walk out the front door. Luckily enough for you though, I might have a solution for that."

"What kind of… solution?" Sirius asked, absentmindedly dragging his tongue over his dry lips.

"Oh, you'll see. Chances are, you might even recognize it. But before we get to that… we need to know if we can trust YOU, Tonks," Harry smirked, turning to address the Auror.

"Me?" the now red-headed girl asked. "Well… I… Uhh… Hmm…"

"I'm afraid I'm going to need a slightly better answer than that."

"Yeah yeah, I know, I know… Well, I'm gonna have to report back to my boss on what happened here today, but… outside of telling her, I can keep it a secret, for now."

"Can your boss be trusted?" Harry inquired, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Oh yeah, totally. She's, like, THE best at keeping secrets. I'm pretty sure she could've killed someone and nobody would've ever found out… Not that she'd do anything like that!" Tonks stammered, waving her arms in denial.

"Well, you just gave away your boss's gender, so hopefully she's better at keeping secrets than you are," Harry retorted drily, causing Tonks to blush heavily.

"… Drat, I did, didn't I…"

"But anyway, I guess I'll accept that for now. We'll have to meet up again in the future to determine what our next course of action will be, so until then, stay low and try to avoid getting into trouble. That means no more spelunking around Hogwarts, Sirius," Harry continued, sending his godfather a rather stern look.

"I'm not… a child, Harry. I can… take care of myself," he breathed in return, looking slightly insulted at being reprimanded by someone so much younger than himself.

"Alright, if you say so. We'll arrange a meeting later. You can contact me via owl, and I'll send Hedwig with a reply. Don't come looking for me though, as that can raise suspicion. And remember to burn all letters you receive after you've read them. Wouldn't want anyone finding those, after all."

"… How is he so good at this…?" Tonks muttered to herself as she listened to Harry speak.

"Now, Tonks. Can you change back into a fly?" Harry asked.

"Huh? Oh… yeah, I mean I could, but… to be perfectly honest, I'd rather not. Being a fly kind of sucks. Can't I be something else?"

"Anything small that doesn't make too much noise works. We'll need to fit all three of us underneath my Invisibility Cloak, which isn't going to be easy."

A small gasp went up from Sirius as Harry said those words.

"… Invisibility Cloak…?"

"Yeah, Invisibility Cloak. Long story, not relevant right now. Can you do it?"

"… Yes. Give me a second…"

Turning around to offer her some privacy as she morphed into an animal, Harry locked eyes with Sirius, who was looking more than a little shocked.

"You… got your hands on James' old Invisibility Cloak? … How?"

"It showed up as a Christmas present one day. I was originally tempted to throw it out simply because I knew the sender was most likely Dumbledore, but I'm glad I didn't. The darn thing has saved my hide more than a few times, and it's really useful for stealing stuff from the library," Harry smirked, his appearance reminding Sirius of James for just a moment.

"Wow, I… never would've thought…" Sirius breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You've… gotten so strong since that day, Harry. I'm sorry… I couldn't be there for you… earlier."

"Hey, don't think about it too much. My life hasn't exactly been easy, no, but I'm guessing yours have been a hell of a lot worse," Harry replied, putting on a half-hearted smile. "And hey, it's not like I've been totally alone. I've had Hermione, and she's more than enough, trust me on that one."

"Ahah, a witch. It looks like you might have inherited some of your fathers' traits after all, Harry," Sirius smiled in return, a lone tear streaking down the side of his face. "I hope… you'll introduce me to her one day."

"… Who knows. Maybe I will."

Turning around again, Harry saw that Tonks had now taken on the form of a small squirrel, her brown, fuzzy body bobbing anxiously up and down on the cold wooden floor.

"Perfect. That'll work," he nodded, before bending over to allow her to climb up his arm and settle on his shoulder. "Now you just stay right there, and… Sirius," he asked, shooting his godfather a quick look. "I'll need you to change back into your dog-form."

"Yeah, yeah… I can do that," Sirius answered, taking a deep breath before allowing the transformation to begin. Shortly afterwards, a large, black dog stood where his godfather had been standing just moments earlier.

"Alright, now we'll need… this," Harry muttered, pulling out his Invisibility Cloak again, carefully draping it over his shoulders and head. "And we're good to go. Sirius, come underneath the Cloak, and we'll move. This will allow us to leave the Room unnoticed. Dumbledore will never know where we went…"

* * *

**Outside the Room of Requirement**

Albus Dumbledore was feeling thoroughly confused. Just moments earlier, he had been in the Hogwarts Dungeon, safely observing both Harry Potter, Nymphadora Tonks and Sirius Black through the power of the Keystone. But then, something… completely unexpected had happened. They had begun disappearing off the map, one by one. First it was Harry Potter, randomly disappearing from outside Ravenclaw Tower. Then Nymphadora Tonks disappeared just moments later, but then the two of them had become visible again for a short period of time, right as they came into contact with Sirius, before disappearing once again. And then finally, Sirius had also disappeared, right outside where he suspected the Room of Requirement to be.

It was all incredibly peculiar, and Albus had been unable to do anything but stare in shock as it all transpired in front of his very eyes. What manner of evil sorcery allowed the three of them to just drop off the wards whenever they pleased? Something was very, very wrong here, and Albus didn't like it one bit.

"It's that godforsaken Cloak isn't it? I knew giving it back to him was a horrible decision, but I couldn't have a piece of the Deathly Hallows just lying around my office… I figured it would be safer and more concealed in his care. Oh, the irony of it all…" he muttered to himself as he paced down the hallways and up the staircase leading to the Seventh Floor of the castle.

If Harry and Nymphadora had made contact with Sirius, then all of his plans were in danger of being jeopardized. He couldn't allow Harry to figure out the real truth behind his parents' murder, that would destroy the entire purpose of him trying to mentor the damn boy. Harry needed to view him as a trustworthy ally… no, he needed to view him as his ONLY trustworthy ally, in order for the plan to work. If Harry figured out he had been lying to him… well, the chances of him ever trusting Albus again would grow infinitesimally slim.

The boy also couldn't be allowed to grow close to his godfather, because that could possibly provide him with a reason to live, and not give up his life in the fight against Voldemort.

"For neither can live while the other survives…"

After walking for what felt like an eternity, he finally arrived at the suspected location of the Room of Requirement. If his estimations were correct, Harry, along with Nymphadora and Sirius, would be inside of it at this very moment, no doubt discussing Harry's past and future. Such a talk could not be allowed to continue, so Albus absolutely had to find the entrance this time, and quickly at that.

He began running through the mental list of everything he knew about the Room, attempting every strategy in order to get the door to materialize. What he didn't understand, however, was that the Room had a will of its own, and that it had no intention of revealing itself to him. As a matter of fact, the Room actually disliked Dumbledore, because it could sense his intentions and realized that allowing him to find Harry would be bad for everyone. Therefore, it refused to materialize, leaving an anxious Dumbledore rambling on to himself in the empty hallway.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a completely different hallway on the Seventh Floor, a large iron door materialized from thin air, opening slowly to reveal… absolutely nobody. The door swung open seemingly on its own, before closing just as rapidly and disappearing back underneath the veil of magic. To anyone else, the whole thing would've looked astonishingly weird, but in actuality, what had really happened was that Harry and his crew had snuck out of the Room under the protection of the Invisibility Cloak. And speaking of Harry and his unlikely band of misfits, they were currently making their way back down to the lower Floors, towards the nearest exit. They made sure to make as little sound as possible as they walked, taking wide berths around any patrolling staff they encountered. Inside his head, Harry was counting the seconds as they travelled, desperately hoping that Dumbledore would be too stupid to catch on to their plan, and thus allowing Sirius and Nymphadora to escape unscathed and unnoticed.

Needless to say, with Dumbledore preoccupied with mumbling to himself and poking the stone walls at the Seventh Floor, the trio made it to the exit without trouble, allowing them to escape towards the Forbidden Forest with relative ease.

A couple of minutes later, they finally stopped just shy of entering the forest, with Harry pulling off the Invisibility Cloak.

"I… can't believe we made it!" Nymphadora whispered enthusiastically after she had changed back into her normal form.

"Tell me about it," Harry whispered back. "This thing is totally overpowered…"

"Well done, Harry," Sirius chimed in, also making sure to keep his voice as low as possible. "I don't know how I would've gotten out of there without your help. It seems like you're quite the Marauder yourself."

"… Marauder?" Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Oh… They never told you about that, huh… Well, I guess I'll have to fill you in later then," Sirius sighed, his long, black hair swaying lightly in the breeze.

"Right… Well then, I believe this is where we part… for now," Harry nodded, shooting the both of them a quick look. "Tonks, you make sure to keep what happened here a secret, alright? And Sirius… just don't get yourself thrown back in jail. That would seriously complicate things."

"You snarky little… You think I want to go back there?! Of course I will be careful!" his godfather whispered back, his eyes glaring daggers at Harry.

"That's all I ask. Alright then… until next time."

"Be seeing you!"

"… Goodbye."

And then the three of them split up, running different ways into the night.

* * *

The next morning, Harry received notice that the Headmaster wanted to meet with him in his office. Hardly surprising, considering last nights' adventures, but he had to admit, he wasn't expecting Dumbledore to call him in this early. He had thought it would take the old fool at least a couple of days to make up his mind on how to approach the situation, but apparently that wasn't the case.

Harry went to his office right after finishing his breakfast, deliberately avoiding Hermione on the way as he had yet to explain to her the events of the prior evening. The meeting itself went... about as well as expected. Dumbledore delicately tried asking him about his whereabouts last night, to which Harry only responded with lies about going to the library to burn the midnight oil. Needless to say, the old man saw right through his lies, but couldn't really call him out on it seeing as he had no real tangible evidence to use against him. He then tried asking him about his godfather, and if he had in some way been in contact with him recently. Harry kept up his façade and answered that unless seeing him in the newspapers counted, he couldn't really say he had. This seemed to set Dumbledore off, and the meeting continued with some more prodding questions, some accusations and some minor verbal sparring, before finally concluding with a decisive victory to Harry and a crushing defeat to Dumbledore. His Legilimency also didn't help him, as Harry's increased proficiency with Occlumency countered any surface-level thought-reading Dumbledore might attempt, thus leaving him with no other option than allowing the boy to retreat back to his daily routine and end the meeting.

As he walked out of the Headmasters' office, Harry felt… well, incredibly satisfied with himself. He had successfully met, talked with and helped his godfather escape Hogwarts, and possibly made a new ally in the DMLE in the process. Then he had went on to win the confrontation with Dumbledore in his office, and would also be spending the summer at Hermione's place instead of with the Dursleys, allowing him the possibility of actually having a good summer vacation for the first time in his admittedly short life. Things were definitely looking up for the Boy-Who-Lived, which was a nice change of pace as far as Harry was concerned.

What he didn't know, however, was that things were about to get a whole lot worse. Unbeknownst to him, summer vacation would bring its own challenges. A certain book hidden underneath his bed would come back into the limelight. And looming on the horizon together with his Fourth Year at Hogwarts, a certain Tournament was waiting to take place. A Tournament that would ultimately change both his life and destiny forever.


	14. Act 2: Meeting the Grangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**4 Privet Drive**

Vernon Dursley let out a sigh of satisfaction as he stared out over the blissful neighborhood of Privet Drive, a steaming hot cup of coffee in his right hand. It was a beautiful Monday morning, and the sun was out, the birds were chirping, and his wretched freak of a nephew was nowhere to be found. Vernon could hardly believe that he had once resisted sending Harry to freak school. The little mutant had been useful for getting chores done around the house, yes, but it hardly outweighed having to feed and clothe him.

But those days were long gone now. The boy was at that magical little school of his for the majority of the year, and the only times they had to see him was during the summer vacation. Vernon blessed his lucky stars for not having to deal with him any more than that. Their little family was happier without him ruining the peace.

Walking over towards the mailbox, Vernon lifted up its lid and stretched his hand inside to grab todays' issue of the newspaper. To his surprise however, the mailbox wasn't as empty as it usually was. Pulling out his arm, he saw that together with the newspaper, there was also an envelope addressed to him and Petunia. Confused, he ripped it open and put his hand inside, dragging out a brown piece of parchment. On it was written eight simple sentences:

" _To Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia:_

_Dear Aunt and Uncle, I will not be returning for summer this year. I am going to be spending my vacation at a friends' house. I hope this isn't in an issue for you. If it for some reason is, then please send a letter with my owl, Hedwig._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter."_

Looking up, Vernon immediately spotted the boys' white owl across the street, sitting perched on a branch in a nearby tree, regarding him with curious eyes. Blinking twice, a wide grin started forming on his face. The little misfit wouldn't be returning for summer this year? What wonderful news! Finally, they wouldn't have to worry about him causing any trouble with that godforsaken magic of his. They could finally have a peaceful summer!

Turning around, Vernon raced back inside to give Petunia the wonderful news. He wouldn't be sending any letters to Harry anytime soon, that much was certain. If the boy wanted to spend his summer elsewhere, then he was more than welcome to. The less Vernon had to see him, the better.

 _Anywhere but here, please_ , Vernon smiled to himself as he locked eyes with his wife in the kitchen and started telling her all about the great news.

* * *

**Headmaster's Office**

"Please, Harry, I urge you to reconsider! We cannot guarantee your protection if you choose to stay with Miss Granger over the summer! You'll be putting both her and her family at risk simply by being there!" Albus Dumbledore bellowed, the ever-present twinkle all but gone from his eyes now.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster, but there's no way I'm going back to the Dursleys. Hermione and her family has been kind enough to open their home to me, and I cannot possibly turn them down. And don't worry, Voldemort has no idea where Hermione lives or even who she is. Even if he could muster up the forces to attack me, he will have no idea where I am," Harry replied, his voice even and unbreaking. He would not back down on this, no matter what. He was going to be spending the summer at Hermione's place, no matter what Dumbledore said. Voldemort hadn't shown up this year, and so Harry assumed he was busy licking his wounds and recuperating his strength, meaning he would likely be safe for the time being.

"That may be so, but I still don't particularly enjoy the idea of you being left unprotected for such a large amount of time. At least with the Dursleys, I can watch over you, and keep you safe. I can do no such thing if you choose to stay with Miss Granger."

"You'll just have to trust me, Headmaster."

"…"

Dumbledore went silent for a minute, contemplating all the possible outcomes of Harry being allowed to stay with Hermione. He really didn't want Harry to do this, but he figured he had little choice in the matter. If he tried to force him to stay with the Dursleys, Albus had a feeling Harry would simply run away again, as he had done last summer.

"If I allow this, you have to promise me you'll be careful, Harry. I don't want you to get hurt unnecessarily."

"Of course," Harry replied, nodding his head as if to confirm that he would be as careful as possible. "I won't go looking for danger this summer, Headmaster."

Letting out a sigh, Albus stroked one hand through his long, white beard, twirling strands of hair around his finger. Harry sure hadn't been very cooperative this year, refusing to open up to him and share his troubles. Perhaps if he allowed Harry to do this, he would be less resistant towards him in the future. By granting him this wish, maybe Albus could curry some kind of favor with the boy, making it easier for Harry to trust him. He could only hope.

"… Alright then. I trust you'll be able to take care of yourself this summer. Please be sure to look out for any signs of danger though, and don't hesitate to contact me if something goes awry."

"I'll be sure to do that, thanks," Harry answered, a slight smile creeping its way onto his face.

"Send my regards to Miss Granger," Albus finished, signaling that the conversation had reached its end. Harry didn't waste any time, only stopping to mutter a quick "thank you" before he left, leaving Albus alone with his thoughts once again.

 _This sure hasn't been an easy year…_ he sighed to himself, turning around to look up at the portraits of previous Headmasters that adorned the walls of his office. _For one, we still haven't figured out who the perpetrator behind the attack at Hogwarts earlier this year was. With everything that's happened, the Ministry is growing increasingly more anxious by the day, battering me over the head with talk of regulations, safety precautions and anti-terrorist measures. Times are changing, and soon enough, Harry will have to face the Dark Lord for real. I only hope he remains on our side. The Harry that I've interacted with this year… he's colder, more suspicious than ever before. It would be a true tragedy if he turned Dark before he managed to fulfill his part of the prophecy._

Letting out yet another sigh, Albus walked over to where he kept the Pensieve and his memories. _Perhaps a trip down memory lane will help me clear my thoughts, and perhaps make clear anything I might've overlooked. I need to be prepared for what's to come, after all. Hogwarts won't be safe for much longer._

* * *

**Ravenclaw Tower**

"I'm sorry we didn't get to spend more time together this year, Harry," Luna said with a dreaming expression on her face as she watched him pack down his stuff in the common room. "I would've liked to teach you more about Occlumency and the Mind Arts before you left for the summer."

"Be honest, Luna," Harry retorted drily as he placed the last of his books in his trunk. "You're only saying that because you enjoyed the cuddling afterwards."

"Is that a bad thing?" Luna smiled, cocking her head ever so slightly to the right.

"Hmm… No, I suppose not. Anyway, I agree that it would've been nice to get some more practice in, but I guess we always have more time for that next year."

"Yes, we do. But it would be beneficial for you to get some practice done during the vacation as well, even if you'll be spending it with Hermione."

"Hey, wait a minute, "even if"? What's that supposed to mean?" he inquired, furrowing his brows in confusion.

"I see how you look at her, Harry, you don't have to hide it. You like her. Don't worry though, I approve of your choice of mate, she is a very beautiful girl," Luna stated casually, seemingly oblivious to the quite hefty implications hiding behind her words.

"Okay, first of all, she's not my "mate", Luna," Harry sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "She's my friend, that's it."

"If you say so."

"I am saying so. Secondly, could you please pass me that stack of clothes over there, so I can finish off packing this trunk and get going? Hermione's already waiting for me, and I shudder to think what she'll do to me if I leave her hanging for too long."

"My guess would be something involving incessant reading and studying," Luna smiled, handing him the last of his clothes. "But it could also involve listening to her go off on a very long lecture about the importance of punctuality and being on time."

"Knowing Hermione, you're probably more right than you could imagine… Alright then…"

Closing the lid on his trunk, Harry took a couple of steps back and pulled out his wand. A couple of wand movements later, the previously normal-sized container had shrunk down to a fraction of its original size, allowing him to put it in his pocket for ease of transport.

"Okay, that should be… everything…"

He let his sentence trail off as his eyes scanned the common room, his mind suddenly assaulted by the strong sense that he was forgetting something very important. Taking a moment of think about what he'd brought, he mentally went through the list of everything he'd need for his summer with Hermione. He couldn't think of anything he'd forgotten.

But then, he suddenly remembered, a cold shiver creeping up his back as he did so.

_The book._

At first glance, it was such a normal, everyday item, a book just like any other in the castle. And yet, he couldn't help but shudder as he thought about the feeling it had invoked in him the first time he had opened it and read from its pages. It had been pretty obvious to him back then that the book was very different from anything else he owned, and right now he was reminded that it was still resting comfortably in its hiding spot underneath his bed upstairs. Truth be told though, despite its inherently Dark nature, he was still very curious about what secrets it might contain, and as such could hardly leave it here over the summer for any lucky house elf to find.

Racing up the steps leading to the dormitories, he quickly made his way into his bedroom, making sure no one else was around before popping open the hidden compartment with some precise maneuvering. There it was, laying peacefully in the middle of the compartment, its title partially obscured by a leather cloth. Harry didn't need to read it to remember what it was:

Daemonis Magicka.

 _Such a cliched title_ , he thought to himself as he grabbed the dusty old tome, closing the compartment behind him before double checking to make sure everything was as he had left it earlier. No point in leaving any clues that could lead someone to figure out that he'd kept a Dark Artifact hidden in the boys' dormitory for the majority of the school year.

Going back downstairs, he met Luna's confused look with a smile, holding up the book to show what he had raced off to find. He knew showing it to her wouldn't pose a risk, not with the leather cloth covering it. There was no way she'd be able to read the title like that.

"Just one last thing I wanted to bring," he said as nonchalantly as he possibly could, inwardly hoping she wouldn't inquire more into the nature of the book. To his great relief, she didn't.

"Oh, okay, I won't ask. But you said you had to meet up with Hermione, so you'd better get going now. You've left her waiting for long enough as is," Luna replied with a smile, gesturing towards the door.

"Yeah, I should. Thanks, Luna… For everything. You've been a great teacher this year," Harry said in response, meeting Luna's smile with one of his own.

"Thanks. And you've been a great cuddle-buddy."

"Err… Thanks?"

"No problem. Now get going."

Shaking his head at her antics one last time, he hurried out of the room, heading towards where he knew Hermione would be waiting for him.

* * *

**Hogwarts Express**

The journey home had been mostly uneventful, expect for the initial scolding Hermione had given him for being late. The two of them had managed to find an empty compartment near the end of the train, and as such had been left mostly on their own as the Hogwarts Express made its way across the Scottish highlands. The reason Luna hadn't joined them when they left was because she was going to be staying behind at Hogwarts for a couple of days before her father would come and pick her up. Harry didn't really know the specifics behind it, but Luna hadn't seemed too eager to share more details and so he had respected her privacy and not asked.

To be honest though, he was actually a little jealous of her at the moment. The train ride home from Hogwarts to King's Cross Station was estimated to take roughly around 10 hours, which was a soul-crushing amount of time for any 13-year-old who was about to meet his best friends' parents for the first time. Harry had tried to sleep to make the hours go by faster, but it had proved elusive as his thoughts kept looping back around to his imminent meeting with Hermione's parents. Despite his rational outlook, Harry wasn't exactly what you'd call a "people person", and as such struggled quite heavily when it came to meeting new people, especially new people he couldn't just ignore or act indifferently towards. Hermione was expecting him to act KINDLY towards her parents (naturally enough), and that meant no snide remarks or ignoble behavior.

Looking over towards Hermione, he couldn't help but smile as he noticed that she had fallen asleep with her head in her book. To his great ire, she looked surprisingly cute like that, and he had to fight to suppress the urge to walk over to her and give her a very long, very inappropriate hug.

Harry wasn't quite sure how he felt about Hermione. One part of him wanted to remain best friends forever, keeping her as his equal and his rival in all things magic. But another part of him, a part that had remained largely dormant for the majority of his time at Hogwarts and was only now beginning to wake up, wanted there to be something… **more** to their relationship. Something more... precious, beautiful and romantic between the two of them. A proper relationship. A girlfriend.

The word alone made him cringe, but his feelings refused to listen to his rational mind. His metaphorical "heart" was dead set on Hermione for some reason, and it was beginning to become a problem. Harry suspected that spending an entire summer with her would only complicate matters further and make it even more difficult to interact with her normally, but he still hadn't been able to turn her down. The part of him that wanted her clearly wouldn't let him turn down such an obvious opportunity.

_For now, I'll focus on meeting with her parents, and then we'll see what happens after that. No matter what… I want to protect her. Regardless of my feelings, she needs to be safe. Even if it means I'll have to distance myself from her. If it can guarantee her safety… I'll do anything… Anything at all…_

With her head in her book, Hermione kept sleeping, unaware of Harry's thoughts as the train inched closer and closer to London.

* * *

**King's Cross Station**

"Okay Harry, don't panic. You can do this. They're only my parents, you've faced worse," Hermione said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as the couple made their way down the busy halls of King's Cross Station. The train from Hogwarts had arrived at the station just on time, and the two of them had disembarked together and started trekking towards where she knew her parents would be waiting for them. The spot was just a couple of minutes away now, and Hermione could feel Harry growing more and more tense by the second. Despite his usually chilly exterior, Hermione knew him well enough to know that situations like this made him very uncomfortable, and so she couldn't help but feel slightly bad for him.

"I know, Hermione, but I gotta say… Right now, Voldemort isn't looking too bad," he breathed in return, his eyes shooting nervously across the station in an attempt to locate the closest emergency exit.

"Harry, stop looking towards the exits, they can't save you from this," she laughed, shaking her head at the nervousness of her best friend. Harry might not be a people person, but this was beginning to get ridiculous. They were only Muggles, it's not like they could hurt him in any way.

"Just… relax, okay? They're great people, I promise you. You're going to love them."

"Somehow, I highly doubt that," he muttered back.

"Oh, there they are!"

Dragging a reluctant Harry behind her, Hermione made her way towards her parents, who were standing just a couple of meters away in the outskirts of massive crowd of people. They immediately lit up when they noticed her walking towards them.

"Hermione!"

"My little girl!"

"Mom, dad!"

Jumping in joy, she gave the both of them a couple of very long hugs, before turning around to face Harry once again.

"Mom, dad, this is Harry," she said, turning their attention towards him instead.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked more or less exactly like Harry had imagined them. Mrs. Granger was a petite woman, only slightly shorter than her husband and with dark brown hair, green eyes, and pale skin. Mr. Granger mirrored his wife by also having brown hair, only that his was slightly lighter and much shorter than his wife's. He also had brown eyes instead of green. Both seemed to radiate an aura of intelligence, reliability and propriety.

"H-hello there…" Harry muttered weakly, struggling to meet their eyes as he greeted them. He hated how powerless he felt in their presence, despite being a talented wizard who had faced even the Dark Lord himself more than once in his life. It was just something about the fact that they were Hermione's parents that put him on edge.

"Hello there, Harry. I'm Jane, and this is Dan. Hermione has told us quite a lot about you over the years, so it's a pleasure to finally meet you," her mother said, sending him a warm smile.

"So… you're the boy who's captured my little girls' heart," her father snickered humorously, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Dad!" Hermione gasped, eyes wide in shock at her fathers' blatant statement.

"Dan, come on, that's unfair," Jane sighed before Harry had a chance to gather his wits. "He's only just met us and you're already trying to scare him off."

"Hey, I'm just making sure my little girl is in good hands," he laughed in response, gracefully accepting Hermione's slap across his arm.

"You can't just say things like that, dad!"

"Uhh, yes I can. I'm your dad, remember. I'm supposed to interrogate any guy you bring with you home."

"Yes, but… you can at least try to be subtle about it!"

"That would ruin the fun!"

Shaking her head, Mrs. Granger turned to face Harry once again.

"I'm sorry for my husbands' behavior, he's just joking around."

"Oh, that's… It's okay, Mrs. Granger, I can take it," Harry replied, having mustered up some of his courage. "I'm sure I'd do the same thing for my daughter."

"This guy gets it," Mr. Granger smiled, earning him yet another slap from Hermione.

"Anyway, I suppose we should start heading towards the car. We're parked just outside so it's not far," Hermione's mother continued, gesturing towards a nearby exit.

"Let's go then," her father chimed in, leading the group as they ventured outside.

* * *

The car ride home to Hermione's place was spent mostly in silence, with Harry answering the occasional question from her parents and Hermione scoffing indignantly every time her father tried to make another dig at him. To Harry's great relief, the Grangers didn't live too far away from the station, so it didn't take them too long to arrive at their house.

"Alright then, home sweet home," Dan smiled as he pulled up into their driveway, parking the car smoothly. "We're here."

Turns out, Hermione's house was also rather ordinary, at least as far as houses went. It was three stories high, with a massive front yard full of different trees and bushes. The whole house consisted of six bedrooms (one of which sported a terrace), two bathrooms, an entrance hall, a reception room, a family room, another hall leading out to the garden and a utility room. The whole thing was certainly nothing spectacular, but it was still way bigger than the Dursleys' house, and rather tastefully decorated as well.

"I hope it's to your liking," Mrs. Granger inquired as they made their way into the kitchen, a hopeful expression coloring her features.

"Oh, it's great. You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Granger," Harry replied, shooting her an awkward smile.

"Please, call me Jane. I hate how formal "Mrs. Granger" sounds," she laughed, before turning around to open the fridge. "Dinner will be ready in about 20 minutes, so until then, you're free to get situated and do whatever you want. Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything, though."

"Will do, Mrs. Gra… I mean, Jane."

"Come on up, and I'll show you where you'll be sleeping, Harry," Dan called from upstairs, making Harry head towards the staircase. Hermione was nowhere to be found, he suspected she had run off to her room to unpack.

"Here you go, your room for the summer," Hermione's father said as he entered the room, gesturing towards the bed in the corner. The room he had been given was not bad at all, and certainly bigger than his old room back at the Dursleys' place. It consisted of a single queen-sized bed, a table with a rocking chair next to it, a bookshelf, a closet and a couple of paintings adorning the walls.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Granger," Harry breathed, taking it all in with wide eyes. He'd never had such a big bed all to himself before, and the thought of sleeping in it made his eyes feel heavy despite it still being relatively early in the evening.

"Don't mention it. I bet you would've preferred to stay in Hermione's room, but sadly, I'm not going to allow that just yet," Dan winked, causing Harry to turn a very dark shade of crimson. "Maybe when you get older."

"Uhh… Ehh… Thank… you?" Harry stammered in response, not quite managing to form a coherent sentence.

"Again, don't mention it. I'll tell Hermione you're in here. Oh, and don't forget; dinner's in 20 minutes."

"N-no, I won't forget, thank you."

Heading for the door, Hermione's father shot him one last cheeky wink before closing it shut behind him and leaving him to his own devices. Seeing as he didn't really have anything else to do, Harry subsequently brought out his trunk and started unpacking. Despite the awkwardness he felt around them, he had to admit that Hermione had some pretty alright parents. He could easily imagine this being a very happy home to grow up in, much unlike his experience living with the Dursleys. Maybe if his parents hadn't died to protect him from Voldemort, he might've had a childhood like this too, with parents who actually loved and cared about him.

 _No matter, I suppose. What's done is done. But if there's one thing I know for sure, its that this is going to be a very weird summer_ , he thought to himself as he opened the closet and started unloading the clothes from the trunk. He had no idea just how right he was.


	15. Act 2: The Tipping Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.
> 
> WARNING: There is some heavily NSFW content in this chapter. Feel free to skip it if you're under the age of 18 or just don't like that kind of stuff.

Dinner with Hermione's parents turned out to be a lot more awkward than he had initially expected. Hermione's father kept making rather suggestive jokes on his expense, constantly shooting him playful yet somewhat suspicious glares, whilst her mother desperately tried to steer the conversation away from anything romance related out of a burning wish to save whatever dignity Harry and her daughter had left. It was quite obvious at this point that Dan was perfectly happy making fun of both him and his daughter for their friendship, even if said daughter clearly didn't appreciate it.

"So, Harry…" Jane started in yet another attempt at rescuing the conversation from going down an uncomfortable road. "Hermione tells us you're quite the celebrity in the wizarding world."

 _Well, it was bound to come up at some point, I guess_ , he thought to himself as he opened his mouth to answer.

"Well, I guess you could say so, yes. It's mostly due to something I did as a newborn child though, and not really because of anything that's happened since."

"She told us you… survived… an attempt on your life by an extraordinarily strong Dark Wizard," she continued, her voice noticeably more strained under the effort to not insult him by asking too many personal questions.

"Yes, I did. Voldemort tried to kill me as a child, and for some reason, his curse rebounded on him and cost him his life," Harry nodded, signaling that he was more than willing to talk about it. He didn't mention, however, that the Dark Lord was most definitely still alive, choosing to go with the Ministry's version of events instead of what he knew to be true.

"I bet Hermione's especially happy you survived," Dan joked yet again, raising his fork to shove yet another mouthful of chicken and rice into his mouth.

"Dad…" Hermione muttered weakly, having all but given up on reprimanding him at this point. It was obvious to her now that no matter what she said or did, he would not be dissuaded to stop.

"Sorry, not sorry," he laughed.

"I apologize for my husband, he's never had an opportunity to play the role of the overprotective father before, so I fear the excuse to finally do so have gone to his head," Jane sighed, taking a sip from the glass of water next to her plate.

"It's fine, really," Harry shrugged, attempting to feign nonchalance and failing dramatically, as his face was currently a nice shade of crimson.

"So, you're saying you're famous because of something you did as a child, yet Hermione here tells me you haven't exactly lived a quite life since then," Dan added, his voice serious for the first time since they began eating. "According to her, you've performed quite a few feats of heroism since."

"Well, it's not like I try to play the hero. Trouble has a way of finding its way to **me** ," Harry grimaced in reply, finishing off the last of the food on his plate as he spoke. It was actually a rather massive understatement to say that "trouble found its way to him". It was more like he was a magnet for all things evil, his life an unending charade of Dark Wizards, dangerous creatures and deadly circumstances. No matter what he did, he just couldn't quite seem to catch a break.

_The Professor from hell in my first year, Tom Riddle's diary and the basilisk in my second and the Obscurus and a wanted godfather on the run in my third._

The thought of the Obscurus caused his body to shudder ever so slightly, and he quickly erased the thought from his mind as he turned his attention back to the conversation. He didn't need to be reminded of how he had razed half the school and taken the life of an innocent student in his rage over seeing Hermione hurt.

"Still though, if Hermione is to be believed, facing just one of the things you've had to face in the past couple of years is quite a feat. I take it you must be an unusually strong wizard," Dan continued, swirling his knife around in circles as if to accentuate his point.

 _Not nearly strong enough_.

"I'm… strong for my age, I suppose. But my strength is mostly the result of hard work and dedication, and not due to some natural gift like some seem to think. Everyone can get to where I am if they bother to put in the work," Harry answered honestly, locking eyes with Hermione's father. "There are still plenty of wizards and witches out there that are stronger than me, your daughter is a living example of that. I wouldn't be half as strong as I am today if it wasn't for Hermione and her help."

Hermione blushed quite heavily at that, burying her face in the neck of her sweater.

"I'm not that strong…" she murmured quietly. Harry only smiled in response.

"Well, it's good to see that you haven't let any of your fame get to your head, at least. You're rather humble for a celebrity," Mr. Granger chuckled, nodding his head approvingly. "I feel a lot more comfortable with the idea of you two dating now than I did before."

And just like that, he was back to joking around again. The blush returned to both Harry and Hermione's cheeks, and dinner continued like before, with Dan making fun of the both of them and Jane sighing in disappointment.

* * *

"..."

Harry couldn't sleep. No matter how hard he tried, the sweet relief of darkness refused to take him, and he was left twisting and turning in his bed. His mind refused to stop working, bombarding him with memories from his past and with speculation of the future. Voldemort hadn't showed up in any meaningful way this year, but that didn't mean trouble had left him alone.

So far, Harry had managed to get by with mostly some good luck. He had learned and experienced a lot, yes, but he still wasn't anywhere near the level he should be at, and at some point, his luck had to run out. At some point, it would all come down to skill and understanding. It was quite obvious that Voldemort wasn't planning on leaving him alone by now, and if he wasn't adequately prepared, he would not stand a chance against him. The Dark Lord would return, kill him and everyone he cared about, and then proceed to take his place as ruler of Wizarding Britain. And no matter how much Harry might dislike the British wizarding society, he didn't want them to suffer the fate of being ruled by Lord Voldemort. The death toll would be unimaginable if such a thing came to pass.

_Right now, he's biding his time, gathering his strength. But he wouldn't be doing that forever. Soon enough, he'll come for me. And I'll have to be ready._

He was ripped from his thoughts by the sound of a knock on the door. Confused, he slowly got up from his bed and approached the entrance to the room, opening it up to reveal Hermione standing on the other side, dressed in nothing but her nightgown.

"Can't sleep either?" she asked drily, her hands fidgeting nervously behind her back.

"Not really, no," Harry sighed in reply, taking a step back and gesturing towards the room. "Want to come in?"

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble," she responded with a small smile, walking into the room and taking a quick look around. Harry suspected she wouldn't find it too different from what she was used to, he had hardly brought with him a ton of stuff after all.

Getting seated on his bed, he waited for her to say something. She must've had a reason for coming to him in what was essentially the middle of the night.

"I mostly just came by because I couldn't sleep," she started, an awkward smirk covering her face. "And to apologize for my dad's behavior today. Sometimes, it can feel like he's the real child in this family, and not me."

"Apology accepted," Harry nodded, tapping the bed next to him. "Feel free to sit down, by the way. You're making me kinda nervous, standing there like that."

"O-okay…" she muttered, gracefully taking a seat next to him on the bed.

"As I already told you, I couldn't really sleep myself. Too many thoughts keeping me awake," he sighed once he saw that she had made herself comfortable, shaking his head in exasperation.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked, fixing him with a curious yet slightly flustered gaze.

"Just… everything, I guess. My past. My future. I… I guess I'm just concerned."

"What are you concerned about?" she inquired, leaning ever so slightly closer to him.

"Voldemort, mostly," Harry chuckled drily in response, shifting his gaze to the ground. "I feel like no matter what I do, it's all pointless in the end. Voldemort seems hellbent on killing me, for some reason, and I suspect he's not going to stop until he's gotten what he wants. Kinda makes it hard to be excited for yet another year at Hogwarts when I know I'll just… die… eventually."

"You don't know that. You can still beat him," Hermione declared, a surprising hardness entering her voice. "I'll help you."

"… As reassuring as that is, I'm only a child, Hermione. How am I supposed to beat the strongest wizard alive? The only reason I've gotten as far as I have is because of luck. And that's bound to run out eventually."

"It's not only because of luck," she hissed, suddenly a lot more fired up than earlier. "You need to stop downplaying your own strength. You are one of the bravest people I know, and the only one who can challenge me when it comes to academics. You're stronger than you realize, Harry."

"But not strong enough," he smiled sadly, shaking his head at her words. "It doesn't matter if I do well in school if Voldemort is ten times as powerful as I am. I simply don't have enough time to catch up."

Suddenly, two pale hands placed themselves on either side of his head, jerking it to the side. He immediately locked eyes with Hermione, her face drawn into a strict, yet still surprisingly loving expression.

"Listen to me, you idiot. You're not going to die. We're going to get out of this, together. I don't care what anyone else says, I know how strong you can be when you need to. And if you feel like you can't catch up with Voldemort, then cheat. Use every dirty trick in the book to get the advantage. Do everything you can to stay alive and emerge victorious. Don't let him win before the battle has even started."

Staring into her chocolate-colored eyes, he couldn't help but shiver as his heart did cartwheels in his chest. She looked unbelievably beautiful in that moment, the moonlight streaming in through the window illuminating her features and making her look like some kind of goddess. He couldn't believe he had been lucky enough to find a friend like her, a friend that would stand by him and support him no matter what.

"And it's not like you have to face this alone. I'm going to be there by your side the entire time, helping you in any way I can. No matter what happens, as long as it's the two of us, we can face anything. You're not alone, Harry."

He swallowed hard in an attempt to get rid of the lump forming in his throat, a single tear threatening to roll down his cheek as his heart soared. Hearing her say such things so earnestly did strange things to his feelings, making his head go fuzzy. They had been through so much already, and knowing that she wouldn't leave him, wouldn't abandon him, made him feel all kinds of ways.

"So next year, let's give it our all. Let's grow stronger, learn as much as we possibly can. We are already at the top of our year amongst the students, but we can go even further. We'll gather allies, people like Luna, and prepare for the future. If it can help us in the fight against Voldemort, nothing is off-limits."

Harry could do nothing but nod in response, the tear in his eye finally leaking out and streaking down the side of his face. He absentmindedly noticed that Hermione also seemed to be struggling now, her lips quivering ever so slightly under the weight of her own words.

"So please… please, don't doubt yourself. We'll make it, one way or another. No matter what it takes."

"… No matter what it takes," he whispered back, placing one of his hands atop one of hers, clenching it tightly.

And, before he even realized what he was doing, there was suddenly nothing separating them anymore. The space between them was reduced to zero in an instant as he crashed his lips onto hers, kissing her with an almost primal yearning. A tiny voice in his head told him that he was moving too fast, that this could potentially ruin their entire relationship, but at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. All he wanted to do was kiss her, consequences be damned.

Hermione didn't even flinch. She responded to his kiss with equal fervor, matching his strength with her own. This had been brewing for a long time, and the tension had finally reached a tipping point with her heartfelt speech. Three years of history swiftly came to its conclusion with Harry's kiss, and she had no hope of holding herself back any longer, practically throwing herself at him in her desperation.

**A/N: NSFW content starts here.**

Before either of them knew what was happening, Harry was on his back in the bed, with Hermione on top straddling his waist. The only times they broke apart were to come up for air, and even then it didn't take them long to resume. Harry's mind had long since gone blank now, his entire thought-process replaced with passion and lust, burning bright in his chest like a flame. Letting his hands run through her hair, he flicked his tongue across her lower lip, making her body shiver and her breath catch in her throat. _Godric_ , she wanted him. She wanted him so much, she could scarcely think straight.

"You're so amazing…" Harry sighed, planting wet kisses along her neck and jaw. She simply moaned in response, her body convulsing lightly at his touch. If they didn't stop this soon, Hermione would not be able to contain her desire for him.

He slowly started trailing downwards, the flow of kisses taking him further and further south towards her breasts. A voice in her mind told Hermione that she should stop him before this went too far, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. She **wanted** him to see her, to kiss her and love her and hug her and feel her.

At long last, his lips came into contact with the bottom of her nightgown, the part that was covering her modest breasts, and an unseen force stopped him from going any further. Even now, his mind refused to pressure her into doing something she didn't want to do, and so he was left placing kisses on the exposed part of her chest, his breath tickling her skin.

"It's okay... You can go further…" she breathed into his ear, bending forwards to allow him further access to her chest-region. Harry didn't need to be asked twice.

Bringing up his hand to grab the hem of her nightgown, he dragged it down and exposed her rigid nipples to the moonlight. Her pale breasts were beautiful, and he couldn't help but stare in fascination as he softly dragged his thumb over one of them, making sure to apply just enough pressure to make it pleasurable. Her reaction was instantaneous; she arched her back and twitched slightly at his touch.

"Be careful… They're… sensitive…" she sighed with her eyes closed and her mouth slightly agape. Seeing her so aroused did strange things to his head, and in his pants, he could feel a certain part of himself rapidly growing in size. Bending forwards, he wrapped his mouth around one of her stiff nipples and swished his tongue across it. Hermione squirmed on his waist as he played with her, grinding her hips against him. The friction nearly drove him insane, as her hips were rubbing against his now thoroughly erect member, causing it to twitch and pulse violently.

"Hermione…" he breathed after caressing her chest for a while, removing his mouth from her breasts. "We should stop…"

"I know…" she breathed back, letting herself fall down upon him and burrowing her face in his neck, her hair tickling the side of his face.

"I… want to go further, but… we shouldn't. Not yet. I'm sorry..."

"No, it's okay… I agree..."

Wrapping his arms around her, Harry let out a sigh of frustration as his cock twitched in his pants. He would most definitely need to… relieve some stress… once Hermione had left, otherwise he would not be able to sleep at all.

"I'll see you in the morning then," she whispered in his ear, planting a light kiss on his cheek before making to get up from the bed. Harry let her go, staring wistfully after her as she left the room, his thoughts a jumbled mess.

_Sweet Godric, what have I done…_

**A/N: End of NSFW content.**

* * *

The morning after was about as awkward as expected. Harry woke up rather late, no doubt the result of staying up late the night before to think, and came down to find the others sitting around the table eating breakfast. Hermione adamantly refused to meet his gaze, and shifted uncomfortably around in her chair. Her parents, on the other hand, were much more welcoming, smiling at him as he entered the room.

"Good morning, Harry. Had a good night?" Mrs. Granger asked him.

_Oh yes, very._

Ignoring the urge to make a really inappropriate comment, he nodded in response before getting seated at the table, sitting directly opposite of Hermione. She still refused to look at him, keeping her stare firmly down at the table. Her father must've noticed the tension between them, as a small smile started creeping its way onto his face.

"So… Did something happen last night? The two of you seem awfully quiet," he remarked teasingly, his voice dripping with amusement.

"No, absolutely nothing at all happened last night," Hermione suddenly piped up, the traces of a blush coloring her cheeks. "We just talked for a bit in Harry's room, that's it."

" **Talked** , huh… Well, it must've been a really interesting **talk** then, seeing as you can't even bring yourself to look at Harry," he pressed, refusing to back down.

"DAD, PLEASE…" Hermione begged, squirming under the weight of his accusations.

"Ahahaha, alright, alright, I'll stop," he laughed, bringing his steaming cup of coffee up to his lips. "It's okay, don't worry. I was young once too."

His comment didn't make things any better, and Harry had to really fight to suppress the blush threatening to spill out across his face. Memories of the night before resurfaced from the depths of his mind, making his groin twitch ever so slightly.

"Well, no matter what happened last night, the two of you need to eat something. Here, I'll fix you up with some toast," Jane nodded, extending her arm across the table to grab Harry's plate. He gratefully accepted her offer, handing her the plate before she could bend all the way over to it.

"We were planning on going to the mall today," Dan said as Jane got up from the table and started toasting some bread. "And we were wondering if the two of you would like to come with us."

Harry, not quite sure what to say, looked to Hermione for assistance, only to be met with curt rejection. She seemed to be wholly absorbed in admiring the wooden table, and would probably not be of any help.

"Uhh… Sure, w-we'd love to," Harry smiled, deciding to answer for the both of them. Despite her hesitance to look at him, Harry doubted she would allow him to go to the mall with her parents without her. She had to keep an eye on her father after all, to make sure he didn't take his teasing too far.

"Great! We leave in approximately two hours, so be sure to get anything you need to do done before then."

"Yeah, I'll be ready."

Harry didn't say much after that, choosing to remain mostly silent like Hermione for the remainder of breakfast. He did, however, listen to Jane ramble on about buying new furniture for the living room, and occasionally chuckling when Dan made a joke. Despite the awkwardness, Harry felt rather comfortable in their presence now, and found himself looking forward to going to the mall with them. The only thing he hoped was that he would be able to bring Hermione to talk to him before then.

* * *

A couple of hours later, about 15 minutes before they were scheduled to leave, Harry heard a faint knock on his door. Hermione had retreated back to her room after breakfast, and so he had figured he'd do the same until they were ready to leave. Walking over to the door, he swung it open to reveal Hermione standing there with a conflicted expression on her face. The scene was oddly reminiscent of last night, and Harry couldn't quite contain his blush at the thought of what had happened then.

"L-listen here…" Hermione started, finally meeting his eyes for the first time since last night. "Whatever happened last night, I… I wanted you to know that I meant what I said… about standing together against Voldemort."

"O-Oh. That's… good to hear," Harry replied, scratching the back of his head with one hand. "I meant what I said as well… about you being amazing."

Hermione blushed violently at the mention of his comment to her during their union last night, but it didn't seem to upset her. "That's… also good to hear," she muttered quietly, the faintest traces of a smile ghosting across her lips.

"When we get back from the mall… I think we should get started on our studying. I haven't forgotten what you said last night, about going as far as we can this year. We need to get stronger, and the only way that's going to happen is through hard work. And, knowing you, I bet you brought with you at least one copy of every book in our curriculum for next year home," he finished with a smile, laughing ever so slightly at Hermione's reaction. His assumption had been spot on.

"I figured it would be nice to get a head start! And I really like studying…" she defended, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Hey, I'm not complaining. As far as I am concerned, your decision to do so will benefit the both of us greatly. I'm counting on you to help me through it."

"… I'll try my best," she responded with a smile.

"Good. Now let's get going. Don't want to keep your parents waiting."

"Alright."

And so the two of them left his room, heading down the stairs to join Hermione's parents by the front door.


	16. Act 2: Summers End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**The Grangers' House**

"Sweet Lord that is uncomfortable," Harry groaned as his twelfth attempt at apparition ended with him tumbling to the ground in a painful heap. He had managed to successfully travel the distance this time, but for some reason, he could never quite seem to nail the landing.

It was a beautiful Tuesday morning, and Harry and Hermione were practicing apparition. They had been trying to get it right all morning, with the two of them taking turns attempting to apparate across the back garden that came attached with the rest of the Grangers' estate. So far, Hermione had had the most luck, actually managing to remain upright once or twice after apparating, but she could by no means reliably pull it off.

Apparition was by far the most convenient way to travel for wizards and witches. It was essentially the magical equivalent of teleporting, allowing those who mastered it to travel instantly from one location to another, without having to traverse any of the space in-between those two points. This was accomplished by having the user focus on their desired location in their mind, and then purposely disappearing from their current spot to reappear at said location. Hermione had described it as "tearing a hole through the space-time-continuum and then jumping through said hole to arrive at the desired location instantly, without delay." A hopelessly complex way of describing it, of course, but she was Hermione Granger after all, so Harry expected little else.

"It's not meant to be easy," Hermione chuckled lightly, obviously taking great enjoyment in his failings. "It's a Sixth Year spell, and not something that we should be trying to learn already. But, as we decided a couple of days ago…"

"We're going to be pushing ourselves further than anyone else this year," Harry finished for her, the mention of their night together still bringing a faint blush to his cheeks. The past couple of days had gone by with a blur, with most of their time being taken up by studying and preparation for their Fourth Year at Hogwarts. They needed to get a head start on their curriculum as early as possible, so they could ditch classes with good conscience to practice more… questionable magic on their own.

So far, neither of them had attempted to seriously bring up what happened during that one night, but it had become obvious that neither one of them regretted it. As a matter of fact, just the day before, when Harry had attempted to cast the Summoning Charm and accidentally hit himself in the head with the book he was attempting to summon, Hermione had found it incredibly amusing, and given him a quick peck on the lips for his troubles.

"Precisely," Hermione nodded, dragging him out of his daydreams and back to the present. "Apparition is regarded as an advanced spell by the Ministry and is technically illegal to practice without a license."

"Huh… I didn't actually know that," Harry commented as he put his wand back into his pocket. Apparating without the use of a wand was incredibly difficult, and not something he was eager to attempt just yet. He could barely apparate with one, after all, so he didn't want to think about what would happen if he tried to do it wandlessly. "Will the Ministry know that we've tried it?"

"No, they won't. Apparating does not activate The Trace on our wands, as it is not technically regarded as a traditional spell. It does not require any particular wand movements or incantation to be cast, and is mostly intent-focused. The wand is only beneficial because it helps channel the magic, taking some of the strain off of you, the caster."

"Ahh, so because no proper spell is actually initiated by the wand, the apparition goes unnoticed," Harry muttered in response.

"Something along those lines."

"Well, that's good to know. Wouldn't want the Ministry barging in on us whilst we're practicing."

"Yeah, what a tragedy that would be. They would probably be shocked at just how bad you are at it," she teased, a playful smirk coloring her features.

"As if you can do any better," Harry fired back, scoffing indignantly. Raising an eyebrow at his words, she tossed her hair in a show of overexaggerated bravado, before vanishing right in front of his eyes. Eyes widening in surprise, Harry turned around to see where she had gone off to, and spotted her underneath a nearby tree, standing upright with a cocky smile on her face.

"See? Still standing," she grinned.

Not about to allow himself to be outdone, Harry also apparated, appearing right next to her before she had a chance to blink. His apparition, however, didn't go nearly as well as hers, as he immediately tripped and fell as soon as he arrived at his destination. Flapping his arms wildly, he dragged Hermione with him down as he fell, landing on his back with her on top of him.

"Seriously!" she laughed, placing her hands on the grass on either side of his head and pushing herself up she could look at him. "So unnecessary!"

"Alright, alright, I concede. You're better at this than I am," he smirked back, laughing softly as he did. The laughter quickly died down, however, as he found himself staring into the brown depths of Hermione's eyes, utterly enthralled by the beauty he saw within. Hermione also seemed to tense up, the smile vanishing from her face as their eyes locked, and for a moment, the two of them simply looked at each other, unspoken words drifting between them. And then, after what felt like a small eternity, she ever so slowly bent down again to place a careful yet passionate kiss on his lips.

Fireworks went off in Harry's head as she kissed him, and he couldn't help but shudder as she let out a soft groan of pleasure. She tasted vaguely of hazelnut and coffee, which only further incentivized him to deepen their kiss, running his hands through her hair and pushing her against him.

The whole thing lasted for at least a couple of minutes, before the two of them had to separate in order to breathe.

"… Wow, that was…" Hermione started, her mind running in circles.

"Amazing," Harry smiled, finishing the sentence for her. "It was amazing."

Chuckling softly at his words, she kissed him one last time for good measure before getting off of him, allowing him to stand up again.

"Alright then… Where were we?" she asked, immediately slipping back into teacher-mode.

"I believe we were discussing apparition," Harry stated, brushing the grass off his clothes.

"Ahh yes, of course. Well, as we have both seen by now, you aren't exactly the most adept at apparating over short distances. In order to improve your chances, you should seek to better understand what it is you're trying to accomplish. You have to visualize your desired location very clearly, especially if you're trying to travel to one specific spot. If you just want to arrive within the general vicinity of your target, you don't need to visualize it as clearly, but you should still…"

Listening to her go off on yet another one of her infamous ramblings, he couldn't help but smile as he struggled to follow what she was saying. Only Hermione could go from making out one second, to giving a lecture on the theory behind apparition the next.

"… Are you paying attention, Harry? This is very important, so it would be wise for you to listen closely if you wish to pull off a successful apparition any time this century."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening," he sighed in reply, ignoring her subtle jibe as if he hadn't even heard it.

* * *

**Malfoy Manor**

Lucius Malfoy was sitting in his study signing off on some important papers when he heard the knock on his door. Letting out a sigh of irritation, he lifted his eyes from the desk, only to be met with the stare of their new house elf, Amadeus, shining back at him.

"What do you want?" Lucius barked, letting his annoyance over being disturbed in the middle of his work seep into his voice.

"Master Lucius, there is a guest at the front door asking to meet with you, sir."

"What?"

Racking his brain, Lucius tried to recall if he had any scheduled appointments today. He couldn't think of any.

"Yes, Master Lucius, I was most surprised myself. I have never seen this particular wizard before. But he was quite insistent on meeting with you," the house elf continued, looking increasingly anxious under his masters' watchful glare. No doubt he feared the repercussions that would come if Lucius decided he needed to be punished for disturbing him.

"Who does he think he is, coming here and disturbing me in the middle of the day?" Lucius sneered to himself, shaking his head in frustration. He was Lucius Malfoy, the head of the most Noble and Prestigious House of Malfoy, for Godric's sake, he didn't have the time to entertain every lowlife wizard and witch who came to his door begging for assistance or money.

"Turn him down, elf," he said sharply, looking down at the pitiful creature in front of him. "I don't conduct meetings with random nobodies, no matter if they claim their message to be urgent."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Lucius," a hoarse voice suddenly said, making him jump in his seat. Looking around, Lucius scanned the room for the unknown intruder with furious intensity. It didn't take him long to spot him.

Standing in the corner of his study was a black robed, pale man, his slightly freckled skin and brown, messy hair causing Lucius to do a double take. He had immediately recognized who the trespasser was. The person currently leaning nonchalantly against the wall was none other than Barty Crouch Junior himself.

"You!" Lucius gasped, immediately standing up from his chair. "You're supposed to be in Azkaban!"

The man chuckled, a shrill, dry laugh that sent shivers down Lucius' spine, before opening his mouth to answer.

"Supposed to, yes. I broke out."

"B-Broke… out? You mean to say you escaped… the most heavily guarded prison in all of Britain?" Lucius continued, his eyes shining with disbelief.

"Yes, I did. But that's not important, Lucius. What's important is what I'm here to say. What I am here to tell you."

He took a dramatic pause to savor the tension, before continuing to speak.

"I'm here to tell you that his return is imminent, Lucius. The return of the Dark Lord. He's coming. He's coming for us all. He's coming. HE'S COMING," he screamed, his eyes wild and unhinged. It was obvious that the man had properly lost his mind during his time in Azkaban.

"He's… coming? You mean to say… The Dark Lord is alive?!" Lucius choked, his heart now beating rapidly in his chest.

"Yes, he is. He's alive, and eager to take his rightful place as ruler of Britain. He wants the child as well. The little Harry Potter. He wants to kill him, to drink his soul and revel in his death."

"But… but… how can you know? Are you certain?" Lucius still didn't want to believe that his former master had returned. He wasn't ready to face him yet. He didn't WANT to face him yet.

"I have met him, Lucius. I have seeeeeen him," Barty leered, chuckling raucously to himself before pushing himself off of the wall and walking towards the door leading out of the study. "You better be prepared, Lucius. He'll summon you too once he deems it necessary. You wouldn't want to disappoint your master any further than you already have, after all."

"But… but…"

"Take care, Lucius. Oh, and… you should probably get some better security in this place. Slipping in here was a piece of cake."

"…"

And then he was gone, as quickly as he had arrived, leaving a shocked Lucius behind.

"… Master Lucius…?" the house elf asked after a moment of silence, his voice wary and full of anxiety.

"… the wards…"

"What was that, Master?"

"Bolster the wards. Double check to make sure nothing was stolen. And leave me alone. I need to think."

Nodding deeply, the house elf apparated away before he could give it any further orders.

_The Dark Lord has returned… He's back. I knew it was a possibility, but… This isn't… I am not…_

Suddenly feeling a lot older, Lucius slumped back down into his chair, placing his head in his hands and letting out an internal scream of defeat.

Things were about to get a lot worse. With the Dark Lord back, he needed to prepare. Arrangements had to be made.

It was time to don the robes and wear the mask once again. And this time, the Dark Lord would not tolerate failure.

* * *

Summer flew by in a heartbeat, and soon enough, it was time to return to Hogwarts. Whereas the other students in his Year had probably spent the summer lazing off, relaxing after a long school year and taking a well-deserved break, he and Hermione had spent theirs desperately studying every part of the curriculum they could get their hands on, often going through multiple chapters in a day. It hadn't been easy, and Harry couldn't exactly say he felt refreshed and ready to tackle yet another year at Hogwarts, but they had gotten through it together.

It wasn't all bad though. There had been some moments of serenity in-between the harsh bouts of studying. Moments spent cuddling and talking with Hermione underneath a tree in her garden, moments spent with her parents and moments spent relaxing, taking his mind off the horrible reality of his situation. Voldemort might be out to get him, and Dumbledore might be a meddling old fool who would do anything in his power to further his own agenda of pursuing the "Greater Good", but Harry Potter was still the goddamn Boy-Who-Lived, and he would not go down without a fight. Where he had earlier felt insecurity and anxiety at the thought of what awaited him in the future, he now only felt a sense of grim determination. Studying with Hermione and learning as much as he could had only made him even more confident that he would be able to weather the coming storm, no matter what it threw at him.

 _Everyone always seems so eager on telling me what I should be doing with my time and who I should be fighting. They all think that, just because I am the Boy-Who-Lived, I should be risking my life for their well-being. Like I'm some kind of doll that can be controlled and lead around by the hand. But they've all forgotten one very important thing; that this is MY life. And I'm sick and tired of letting everyone else tell me what to do with it_ , he thought to himself, staring out the window of the Hogwarts Express at the trees whizzing by. _But this year, it'll be different. I'm not Dumbledore's Hero, nor am I Voldemort's puppet. I am Harry Potter, and I am the one in control of my destiny_.

A smile plastered itself on his face as he contemplated his future, but it was not a warm or charming smile. It was a cold, selfish grin, one that looked eerily similar to that of a young Tom Riddle, not that Harry could have known that. If Dumbledore had seen him in that moment, he undoubtedly would've panicked at the sight.

"Harry, could you perhaps not… smile like that? It's really unsettling," Hermione suddenly said, ripping him from his thoughts.

"Ahh, I'm sorry. I just couldn't help it," he responded nonchalantly, rubbing the side of his face with one hand. "I got really excited thinking about all the things we're going to be doing this year."

"Yeah, well, if you have time to sit there and smile like some kind of nefarious Dark Wizard, you probably have the time to take a look at this as well," she continued, gesturing to the newspaper she had in her hands. Getting up from his seat and sitting down on the opposite side of the compartment, right next to her, he shot a look at the headline in the paper.

**A WEEK SINCE THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP ATTACK: MINISTRY STILL IN UPROAR.**

"Wait, the World Cup was attacked? Why haven't I heard about this before now?" Harry asked, a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

"According to the article, it happened exactly one week ago. I guess we've just been too busy studying to pay attention to the news, and it passed us by," Hermione mumbled, her eyes darting up and down the length of the article. "You should probably read the entire thing, Harry…"

Taking a closer look at the paper, Harry gradually made his way through the article, his eyebrows raising higher and higher as he read.

" _It has been exactly one week since the attack on the Quidditch World Cup in the end of August, and so far, the Ministry has yet to come out with any official word on whether or not they have caught any of the perpetrators involved. According to eye-witnesses that were at the Cup during the attack, the attackers were all wearing black robes and "skeleton-like" masks that starkly resembled the attire worn by He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named's closest followers. The Dark Mark was also conjured in the air as the chaos raged on, lending further credence to the theory that the attackers were indeed Death Eaters sent by He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named with the specific goal of causing a riot at the Cup. So far, the Minister For Magic, Cornelius Fudge, has refused to comment_."

"Of course Fudge has refused to comment," Harry hissed angrily upon reaching the end of the wall of text. "Wouldn't want anyone thinking he acknowledges Voldemort's return. That man would probably sell his own mother to the Dark Lord if it made sure his vote count remained high in the next election."

"Judging by what we've heard, he's hardly what you'd call an honest politician, no," Hermione sighed in response, shaking her head as she recalled the rumors she had heard about him. Apparently, he was the one who had sanctioned sending Dementors to Hogwarts after Harry's Obscurus had wreaked havoc at the school. "About the only good thing he's done is arrange a manhunt for Sirius Black."

Harry bit his lip in consternation as she said that. He had yet to tell her about his meeting with his godfather in the Room of Requirement. She didn't know that he was innocent, and that Fudge's manhunt was actually just a smokescreen.

Before he got the chance to reply, however, their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door opening, followed by the rustle of clothes. Turning to the side to see who it was, Harry was surprised to see Luna standing there, together with an anxious-looking young boy Harry vaguely recognized to be a Gryffindor by the name of Neville.

"Harry, Hermione," Luna smiled, nodding to the both of them before walking into the compartment to give them both hugs. Hermione cheerfully accepted hers, but quickly looked a little less happy when Luna turned and gave one to Harry as well.

"It's good to see you again, the both of you. I wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine. His name is Neville Longbottom, and he's in the same Year as us, only he's a Gryffindor instead of a Ravenclaw," Luna chirped happily after she separated from Harry, gesturing towards the nervous boy still standing in the doorway. He haltingly raised his hand in greeting, an awkward smile plastered on his face.

"H-Hi… I'm Neville…" he started, looking very uncomfortable all the while. Harry couldn't help but take pity on the boy. He obviously lacked self-confidence, and didn't seem to be particularly brave, despite being placed in Gryffindor.

 _How ironic_ , Harry thought to himself.

"Hi there, Neville. I'm Hermione, and this is Harry," Hermione said, sending the boy a comforting smile. "We're also Thir… Fourth Years."

"I-I know. Luna told me earlier. It's… it's nice to meet you," he replied, his eyes darting between the two of them before settling on the floor in front of him.

"Would you like to sit with us?" Harry asked, seeing no reason to turn the boy away, especially not after learning he was a friend of Luna's. Like Hermione had said all those weeks ago, they needed allies, and Harry wasn't exactly in a position where he could afford to be picky.

"Is… Is that okay?" Neville asked, clearly a little suspicious. He probably suspected they were simply being nice to him out of necessity, and not because they actually wanted him to sit with them.

"Yes, of course. Sit down," Hermione nodded, gesturing to the empty seat opposite of her. He only took a seat once Luna took the one opposite of Harry, sliding in next to her on the couch.

"So, how's your summer been, Luna?" Harry asked, fixing the young witch with a curious look.

"Oh, it's been very nice, thank you. My father only had two panic attacks and one nightmare about my mother this year," she noted absentmindedly, putting a finger to her lips in contemplation.

Harry and Hermione shared a look, before they both sighed. They had forgotten how blunt their blonde-haired friend could be.

"Wow, that's great news, Luna," Harry replied drily, sending the now thoroughly confused Neville a comforting stare. He obviously hadn't grown accustomed to Luna's behavior yet, and looked positively crestfallen at her sudden announcement.

He'll get used to it soon enough.

"Yes, it is. How was your summer? That is a question for the both of you, by the way, seeing as you spent the summer together," she answered, looking at them with the same old dreamy-eyed expression she usually wore.

"Oh, it was… very enlightening. In more ways than one," Harry replied, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Hermione.

"Ahh, I see. You had sex," Luna nodded.

"WHAT?"

Everyone in the compartment apart from Luna let out a yelp of surprise.

"You said it was very enlightening, and, seeing as the two of you have been sitting way closer to each other than normal during the entirety of my stay in this compartment, I arrived at the most logical conclusion. That you had sex," she finished, her logic so incredibly far-fetched it almost sounded believable.

"That's your definition of a logical conclusion?!" Hermione shrieked; her eyebrows raised and her eyes wide.

"Yeah Luna, just because we're sitting closer to each other than usual, doesn't mean we've automatically had sex," Harry sighed, having recovered from his initial shock.

"But have you?" she asked, refusing to back down.

"NO!" Hermione yelled, her face beet red. "Of course not!"

"We got damn close though…" Harry muttered silently to himself, restrained enough for nobody to hear.

"Ahh, okay. I was just curious," Luna finally shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the awkward atmosphere she had created with her very honest question. Poor Neville looked like he was seriously considering jumping out of the window just to escape the tension.

 _It's going to be a wild year_ , Harry thought to himself as silence descended upon the group.

He had all but forgotten about the dusty old book that was currently residing on the bottom of his trunk, waiting patiently to play out its part in the tapestry of fate that was Harry's life.


	17. Act 2: A New Year Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**The Great Hall**

"SILENCE!"

The magically enhanced voice of Albus Dumbledore tore through the Great Hall, stifling any discussion currently going on between the students seated at any of the four gargantuan tables. It was the Start-of-Term Feast, and before the Headmaster had spoken up, an incessant chatter had filled the hall as students both old and new were reunited and met for the first time. The excitement of starting a new year at Hogwarts always felt eerily similar to the excitement one usually felt at Christmas or New Year's Eve, and even Harry had been caught up in the festivities, happily engaging in conversation with the people around his table.

Now, though, everyone's eyes were fixed on the Headmaster, most anticipating him to give the usual speech he always gave at the start of every year.

"Welcome, any and all, to yet another year here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! My name, as I suspect most of you already know, is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the Headmaster of this school."

A loud cheer went up from amongst the crowd of students, before Dumbledore promptly silenced them again with a wave of his hand.

"Now then, before I continue with the customary speech that is given at the start of every term, I have some very thrilling news to share with you all…" he continued, his eyes twinkling under the light of the floating candles. "You see, tonight, it is my great pleasure to announce that a very special event will take place at Hogwarts this year! Our school has been selected to host an extraordinary competition known as the Triwizard Tournament! As Headmaster, and on behalf of all the staff here at Hogwarts, allow me to offer our utmost thanks to the Department of Magical Games and Sports from the Ministry of Magic for bestowing this honor upon us."

From behind the teachers table, a man clad in black robes arose from his seat, eliciting an eager, yet slightly confused applause from the students present. The man had short, almost unnaturally straight grey hair and a narrow toothbrush moustache, rounded out by a black fedora resting comfortably on his head, completing the image of a stereotypical government official.

Tipping his head in a symbolic bow towards the Headmaster, the man put on a warm smile that almost managed to come off as genuine.

 _That's the smile of a man who has several years of experience in the world of politics under his belt_ , Harry noted to himself as he absentmindedly clapped along with the other students. _Warm on the outside, cold and withering on the inside_.

As the man found his seat, Dumbledore raised his voice yet again, promptly silencing the applause as if it had never even been there.

"Allow me to explain: the Triwizard Tournament is a magical contest held between the three largest wizarding schools in Europe: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Each of the schools will pick a Champion to act as their representative, and these Champions will then compete against each other in strenuous tasks that will ultimately result in a victor."

The entirety of the Great Hall held their collective breaths as they waited for Dumbledore to continue his speech. The tension hung thick in the air as he adjusted his glasses, purposefully dragging out the pause for dramatic effect.

 _Drama queen_ , Harry silently thought to himself.

"Now, please do not misunderstand me: the Triwizard Tournament is no easy undertaking. It is designed to test the limits of your intelligence, your magical ability and… your courage". His stare seemed to linger on Harry for a moment as he uttered those last few words, before continuing its sweep of the Great Hall.

"The winner of the Triwizard Tournament will be rewarded with eternal glory, recognition by his peers, a monetary price and the prestigious Triwizard Cup!" As he finished his sentence, a magical current of wind flew through the Great Hall, ruffling hair and eliciting gasps from several students. The gusts stopped at the front of the hall, melding together into a bigger, tornado-shaped torrent, increasing in both power and ferocity. And there, in the middle of the tornado, Harry spotted a goblet-like object made of the finest metal.

As sudden as the winds had started, they also disappeared, leaving behind a truly magnificent cup that caused most of the students gathered in the Great Hall to gasp. The sparkle in Dumbledore's eyes seemed to intensify just a little as he gazed out over the baffled students, the Triwizard Cup illuminating the words "WIZ" and "ARD" that were ingrained on its side.

"The process of selecting these Champions will be taken care of by a magical artefact known as the Goblet of Fire. Each student that wishes to enter the Triwizard Tournament will have to place a piece of parchment with their name written on it into the Goblet, and when the time comes, it will select the Champions it feels are the most worthy to participate. Now, due to the rather harsh nature of the tasks involved, the Ministry of Magic has put in place an age restriction for participation in the Tournament. Only wizards from the age of 17 and up will be allowed to enter their names into the Goblet of Fire."

The response was instant. The undisturbed silence that had previously reigned was immediately replaced by the deafening shouts of frustration from all the students that were under the age of 17, all of them screaming out in opposition of this new, unfair rule. Only Harry and his band of friends seemed to remain silent, seeing as none of them had been planning to enter their names to begin with. To Harry, the Tournament seemed like a very stylish way of committing suicide, and he couldn't say the prospect of eternal glory was overly tempting either. He already had celebrity status, after all, due to him being the Boy-Who-Lived and all.

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore shouted yet again, this time putting even more power behind his words. The hall immediately fell silent. "This new regulation is put in place solely for your own safety, and whilst I am sure that many of you are highly disappointed that you will not be able to participate, the rules are ironclad, and I will not have it any other way."

Nobody said a word. There were none in the Great Hall ambitious or stupid enough to confront Dumbledore openly, after all, not even Harry. The old geezer might be a meddling old fool, but he was still one of the most powerful wizards in the world, one whose words carried a great deal of weight.

"Now then: in exactly two months, on October the 30th, the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will arrive here at Hogwarts. On that day, another ceremony will be held in this hall to celebrate their arrival, and to reveal the Goblet of Fire and open up the chance for students to enter their names into the Tournament. Until then, I hope all of you will take your classes seriously, and not use the excitement surrounding the Tournament as an excuse to slack off."

The Headmaster then went on to explain the general rules at Hogwarts for all of the new students, at which point Harry promptly stopped paying attention to his speech.

 _A deadly Tournament, huh… Well, it looks like I wasn't wrong about this being a wild year. But even if I was old enough to enter my name, I would have zero interest in participating. I have so much to do this year already, so much to learn and study. I don't have time to mess around and take part in some contest when the Dark Lord is still out there, biding his time. I have to focus on getting stronger, no matter what_.

Lifting his eyes, he was surprised to see Hermione staring intently at him from across the table, her eyes sending him a look that seemed to shout: _don't you even think about it_. Shaking his head, he quickly dissuaded her of her fears. There was no way he was going to waste his time participating in the Ministry's party games. He had promised her that he would stay safe this year, and he had every intention of following up on that promise.

* * *

"So… W-Who do you think is going to be s-selected as the Hogwarts Champion?" Neville stuttered as the couple made their way towards their first Transfiguration and Herbology lessons of the year. They weren't going to the same classroom: Gryffindors and Ravenclaws never shared classes, but their respective rooms were in the same direction, and so the two of them had joined up and decided to walk together.

"Hmm… I don't know, actually. But from what I've heard, most people seem to be rooting for Cedric Diggory, so I guess I'll go with him as my guess," Harry shrugged, finding it difficult to really care about who was likely to get chosen or not. The Triwizard Tournament didn't matter to him: he wasn't involved in it, and so who would ultimately end up representing Hogwarts was of no concern to him.

"I r-reckon you're right. He's always b-been really popular, and good at magic too. It would be a s-surprise if he wasn't chosen. Dumbledore wasn't lying about how d-dangerous the Tournament is, though. I did some r-research and found out that the reason the Triwizard Tournaments were cancelled originally was because the c-contestants kept dying all the time. A-Apparently they made it too difficult, and s-so the students participating would always end up getting severely hurt, and some would always die."

"Huh, you don't say…" Harry muttered, not really surprised by the news. The Wizarding Community had always lacked a certain sense of tact when it came to matters like these, and so to hear that they had somehow managed to make a Wizarding Tournament meant for teenagers too deadly was hardly an earth-shattering realization.

"I-I wish I was b-brave enough to participate in events like that… Gran has always said I am too much of a scaredy-cat," Neville sighed in a wistful tone.

"Hey, if this Tournament turns out to be just as deadly as the previous ones, you'll be glad you didn't throw your name in the Goblet of Fire. Take it from a guy who's been in mortal danger more than a few times in his life: it isn't as fun and heroic as it sounds," Harry noted in an attempt at comforting Neville. It was true: the Hufflepuff boy really did lack self-confidence, but in this particular instance, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. An overabundance of courage and bravado could just as easily get you killed as it could get you famous, after all.

"Hah, that's e-easy for you to say Harry! You've done enough h-heroic stuff to last you a lifetime!" Neville shot back, shaking his head. "E-Even if you never did another heroic act in your l-life, you would still be remembered as one of the bravest w-wizards alive!"

"Neville, stop it…" Harry groaned, cringing from the flattery. "It's bad enough that everyone else seems to think I'm some "knight in shining armor", I don't want you to have that perception of me as well. Truth is, I'm kind of a selfish guy. I never really do anything unless it'll first and foremost benefit ME."

"No, I d-don't believe that. You're too kind to be a bad guy, Harry. Y-You're not like Malfoy, or any of those guys. Even if you think you are."

"Well, you're damn right I'm not like Malfoy. Unlike that imbecile, I actually have a functioning brain," Harry noted, inwardly wondering what Draco was actually up to. He realized he hadn't seen the Malfoy heir for quite some time, now that he thought about it.

In fact, the last time he saw him was the day his goons…

 _Attacked Hermione_.

A wave of pure malice washed over him at the thought of Hermione on that cold stone floor, and he had to consciously restrain himself from sneering in fury. How could he have forgotten something so bloody important? Malfoy had orchestrated an attack on Hermione, and Harry hadn't done anything to punish him for it. The thought of that made him so furious it was hard to think straight.

With the dark part of his mind calling out for revenge, Harry took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself before he turned to look at Neville again. The boy had apparently noticed Harry's little "episode", as his skin had turned white as snow and his eyes were filled with worry.

"H-Harry, are you okay? What just happened?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, choosing to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"You just… did something. I-I don't know how to e-explain it, but… you felt… evil. And angry. As if someone had done you wrong."

"Huh, that's odd… I was just lost in thought, that's all," Harry shrugged, desperately hoping Neville would just drop it. The most likely explanation was, of course, that he had let slip a little bit of the Obscurus within him, but that wasn't something he wanted to have to explain to Neville right now. It was quite possibly the last thing the boy needed to hear.

Luckily enough for Harry, they arrived at the Transfiguration classroom in that very moment, allowing him to say goodbye to Neville and dodge the metaphorical bullet before it had a chance to hit.

_Whew, that was a close one… I'll have to learn to be more careful in the future. Don't want to risk having another Obscurus outburst, after all. But I'll need to find a way to punish Draco. After what he did… the little fucker has it coming._

* * *

**Room of Requirement**

"Do it one more time, just to make sure," Hermione instructed, allowing herself to fall into teacher mode as she watched Harry apparate back and forth across the room. It had been a couple of days since they came back to Hogwarts, and in that time, Harry had made some notable improvements to his Apparition. He was now able to reliably apparate across short distances without losing his balance or focus, which was impressive considering the fact that he was only a Fourth Year, and Apparition was a Sixth Year spell. Hermione was still a little better at it than him, but he was catching up, and soon enough they would be able to start attempting long-distance Apparition.

The reason they were doing this in the Room of Requirement was because the rest of Hogwarts was protected by an insanely strong set of Anti-Apparition wards that would bounce you to high heaven if attempted breached. These wards seemed to not apply to the Room though, as it was apparently not considered an "official" part of the castle. Hermione couldn't claim to know the reason behind this, but she suspected it had something to do with how the Room didn't show up on any maps of the castle either. Maybe it existed "outside" of time and space? Unlikely, true, but who really knew?

"I'm telling you Hermione, I've got this. There is no need for any more practice," Harry answered confidently, a cocky smile plastered on his face as he turned to look at her after doing one last apparition. "I can do it flawlessly now."

"Oh really?" she replied, raising an eyebrow before apparating across the room to a standing position right in front of him, catching him off-guard. The motion caught him by such surprise he actually faltered for a minute, taking a small step backwards.

"God, I hate it when you do that…" he muttered under his breath, coughing lightly to regain his composure.

"Well, what if I combine it with this?" she laughed in response, before leaning in to plant a quick yet passionate kiss on his lips.

"… Then it's suddenly not so bad anymore," he smiled once she ended the kiss.

"You're hopeless, you know," she sighed, walking a couple of steps away from him before pulling out her wand.

"I know. But you like that about me," he replied earnestly before pulling out his own wand. "I'm assuming we're going to be practicing spells now, seeing as you pulled out your wand?"

"Correct. We're going to be attempting to cast something called the Quietening Charm. It's not a charm that's normally taught here at Hogwarts, and as such, was rather difficult to learn about, but I believe it can prove to be an extremely useful tool in our fight against the Dark Lord," Hermione noted candidly, mentally trying to recall the exact wand movements she had to perform in order for the charm to work correctly. "Although, there is a slight catch…"

"And that is?"

"We're going to be casting it on ourselves, and not a target."

"Huh… Is that normal?"

Hermione paused for a moment, emitting a low "hmmm" sound as she thought about his question.

"Well… not really, I suppose. The Quietening charm is normally used to quiet sounds that the caster feels are annoying or deafening. But that's not why I'm interested in it."

"Wait, let me guess… You want us to use it to silence ourselves instead, so we can sneak around without getting noticed," Harry guessed, a small smile starting to creep its way across his face.

"Exactly. And, if we combine it with your Invisibility Cloak… Well, let's just say we'll be as close to unnoticeable as human beings can possibly get."

"Ahaha… You know, it's because of things like this that I really do love you sometimes," Harry sighed, before immediately tensing up as he realized his mistake.

 _Fuck_.

Looking over at Hermione with newfound concern, he measured her reaction to his words.

It wasn't good.

Her mouth drawn into a strict line, Hermione looked positively distressed as her mind spun in circles trying to figure out what to say in response.

Neither of them had ever used the word "love" to describe their relationship before. Not surprising, one might say, considering that "I love you" was a pretty strong statement, and not one you made lightly. It usually wasn't before later into the relationship one would start using such a phrase to describe one's feelings for a romantic partner.

Harry, being the usually rational human being that he was, knew this of course. Which only helped to make things worse.

"U-Uhm… I didn't… Ehrm… you know… mean to…" he started, virtually dying of shame as he searched for the right words to say.

"No… I-It's okay, I realize that… it just sort of… slipped out," she replied, throwing him a metaphorical lifeline to save the both of them further embarrassment. Harry immediately caught it and held on to it for dear life.

"Yes, yes! It slipped out! I didn't, you know, MEAN it, or anything!"

"Oh… I mean, of course… Yes… Of course you didn't mean it…"

A flash of what could be interpreted as disappointment shot across Hermione's features before she regained her usual composure and coughed to clear her throat.

"Well, anyway… Back to the… charm," she declared, diverting the conversation back to its original topic. "So… you'll want to hold your wand in an upright position like this, before swishing it lightly to the left and down…"

After that, Harry dutifully followed her instructions for the remainder of their study session, making sure to keep his mouth firmly shut all the while. He wasn't about to make another mistake like **that** again, after all.

 _Impressive, Harry... You truly are the definition of a smooth operator_.

* * *

**Somewhere in England**

Barty Crouch Jr. was feeling something akin to a mix of anxiety and excitement as he made his way towards the abandoned house in the outskirts of town that his Lord had decided to use as a temporary resting place and base of operations. His quest to deliver the Dark Lord's message to Lucius had been successful, and all that remained now was to wait for the Dark Lord to enact the second step of his grand plan.

It had been a long and strenuous journey to get to this point, and it hadn't all been easy. Barty had been forced to do some truly horrific things, things that would no doubt haunt a lesser man for years. But luckily enough for him, he was no lesser man. And there was nothing he wouldn't do for his Master.

Barty Crouch Jr. had never really believed that Voldemort was dead, not even whilst he was in Azkaban and things were at their darkest. Even in that bottomless abyss of suffering they liked to call a prison, he had held on to the belief that the Dark Lord was still alive, and waited patiently for his chance to escape. Such a chance had never presented itself, sadly, but one beautiful day, his Lord had returned, and provided him with the means to attempt a proper jailbreak, at last.

But that was all in the past. What mattered now was the future. The future he and his Lord would build together. First things first, they had to take care of the Potter heir. His Lord had concocted a rather intricate and impressive plan for that, a plan which involved a great deal of suffering for the poor boy. Not that he particularly cared about his well-being. He **had** caused his Master an untold amount of pain with that surprise rebound, after all, and for that, he deserved to be punished.

After Potter was dead, they could begin working out how to seize full control of Wizarding Britain and cast out the pathetic Ministry of Magic. His Lord had plenty of plans for the country, after all, plans that could not be set in motion before Harry Potter was dead and buried.

Ahh, and they were so close now. The Triwizard Tournament was only a couple of months away, and at that point, everything had to be ready. This plan could not be allowed to fail. The Dark Lord had to return. Everything hinged on it.

 _Be strong, my Master. I will bring you back stronger than you were before. The people of Britain **will** have their true leader back, and the Potter boy **will** get what is coming to him. It's all a matter of time_…

Whistling happily to himself as he walked, Barty did a little spin to celebrate their upcoming victory before suddenly stopping dead in his tracks and violently slapping himself across the face. It wouldn't do to be giggling and dancing like a little schoolgirl in front of the Dark Lord. The time for celebration would come. Later. For now, though…

 _We have a boy to kill… Live in fear, Harry Potter. Hell is coming for you_.


	18. Act 2: A Fateful Showdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**Beauxbatons Academy of Magic**

Located deep within the wilderness of the Pyrenees mountains in Southern France, the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic stood proud, as it had for seven hundred years and counting. The beautiful chateau was beset on all sides by majestic gardens and flowery lawns that had been magically created out of the surrounding mountains. In the middle of the school grounds, a magnificent fountain rose to the skies, spraying water in all directions.

All in all, it looked like something out of a fairytale or a grandiose painting, so surreal in its beauty that it was almost hard to believe it was real. Yes, this was definitely the same school Fleur Delacour had fallen in love with all those years ago, with all of its entrancing elegance. But for some reason, whenever she looked out over the splendid school grounds these days, she did not feel that same love flourish in her chest any longer.

Her time at Beauxbatons had been a great deal of things. It had been beautiful, for sure, and cheerful and bubbly and exciting, but also tough and daunting. Fleur had never really fit in anywhere. She had been naturally blessed with a good study-brain, as she liked to call it, and as such had always done extremely well in school. She had also been relatively mature for her age, and beautiful to boot (no doubt due to her part-Veela heritage), which had never failed to make the other girls jealous of her. And it was due to this jealousy that Fleur Delacour had never really had a lot of friends.

You see, other girls had never been particularly kind nor friendly towards her. Most saw her as competition and regarded her with hostility as they bemoaned the beauty **she** had that **they** would never possess. Because of this, Fleur had been forced to adopt a certain persona at a young age, a sort of smokescreen projecting the image of a tough-skinned, ice-cold woman with tons of self-confidence that didn't mind being cast out by the other girls. In reality though, it was nothing but an illusion, a false image she could hide behind, a shield to cover the real, much more vulnerable Fleur.

It had all gotten easier to endure with time, of course. The jealousy of the other girls had branded her an outsider, and Fleur was pretty sure that if her sister, Gabrielle, hadn't been there to comfort her in the times when things got rough, she would have broken down out of loneliness a long time ago. But it had all worked out in the end, somehow.

Despite the situation with the other girls though, Fleur was a natural at most school-related things. She breezed through her classes, picking up many of the subjects with ease and powering through the curriculum in short time. The library had quickly turned into one of her favorite places in the chateau, and she had spent countless hours there, toiling away at new challenges and absorbing new information like a sponge.

Yes, she had learnt so much during her time as a student at Beauxbatons, so so much, and yet… in many ways, she still felt like that same child she had been when she arrived here all those years ago. Completely green and unknowing about the world of magic and those that inhabited it. And now she was in her final year, heading towards graduation and the end of her world as she knew it. It was a daunting feeling, knowing that everything you'd grown so accustomed to was coming to an end in just a couple of months' time. And yet, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement as well. FINALLY, she would be let loose into the real world, free to forge her own path and carve out her own destiny. No more jealous girls holding her back, no more self-doubt or loneliness. She would surround herself with friends and family, and throw herself into her work. It was all going to be perfect.

The only thing that stood between her and that freedom now was the Triwizard Tournament. A final challenge to show that she was ready to tackle the real world, ready to be her own person. Needless to say, she was going to throw everything she had at this concluding trial. Winning the whole thing would not only prove her superiority over the other girls in her Year once and for all, but would also create a lot of positive buzz for her, buzz that could help her out a lot when it came to applying for jobs and such after graduation.

_It's been a long and winding road to get here. But now, all that remains is this Tournament. And I'm going to ace it._

* * *

The Dining Chamber of Beauxbatons had long been at the very top of Fleur's list of favorite spots in the chateau. The room was tastefully decorated with birch furniture and gothic chandeliers, with big windows adorning the sides, letting the sunlight flow in. Floating in the air above was a choir of Wood Nymphs, serenading the students as they ate. It was a beautiful sight to see, so light and cheerful, that it never failed to brighten Fleur's mood.

Today was not a happy day, though. The Triwizard Tournament was approaching at breakneck speed, and soon enough, she would have to say goodbye to Beauxbatons and the lovely school grounds for the foreseeable future. Needless to say, she was NOT excited to spend the rest of her school year at some grotesque medieval castle in England with no charm or elegance whatsoever.

"Good morning, Fleur. You don't look very happy," Gabrielle, her fourteen-year-old sister, said in fluent French as Fleur sat down at their usual table.

"No, I suppose I don't. I guess the thought of leaving Beauxbatons is finally getting to me," Fleur responded with a sigh, stretching across the table to grab a slice of bread.

"Awww, come on Fleur, you are stronger than that! You are going to destroy this Tournament and you know it," Gabrielle smiled, shaking her head in disagreement. "I can't think of anyone more suited for the task than you."

"I do not doubt my own ability, more so the… conditions surrounding the event. I don't want to spend the majority of my last school year in some depressing stone ruin," Fleur pouted, causing her little sister to laugh.

"Hey now, no need to feel so down about it. I've heard that Hogwarts can be quite charming this time of year!"

"Charming how?"

"Charming in a way only "depressing stone ruins" can be!" Gabrielle winked, causing Fleur to scoff.

"Hah! The only thing that's "charming" about that godforsaken wreck of a castle is its Headmaster. The rest of it is just as gray and lifeless as the inside of a stone casket."

"Those are some harsh words," Gabrielle whistled, spreading some strawberry jam across a piece of toast as she spoke. "Do you really mean that, or are you just saying it because you are in a bad mood?"

"I'm not in a bad mood!" Fleur shot back, immediately realizing her mistake.

"Reeeeally?" Gabrielle droned; an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"… Okay, maybe I am a little prickly today. It's just that… I'm not ready to say goodbye to Beauxbatons yet. I don't want to leave this place behind…"

"Hey, it's okay. I get it, I really do. I love this school just as much as you do, so I understand that this must be really hard for you. But there's no use in whining and complaining about it. That's not going to change anything. It would be a much better use of your time to practice and prepare for the Tournament," Gabrielle noted wisely.

"… Argh, why do you always have to sound so mature and reasonable even though you are several years younger than me?!" Fleur sighed, rubbing her tired eyes with one hand as she spoke. "I'm supposed to be the grown-up here, not you!"

"Well, Maman always said I was the reasonable one," her sister quipped in response, a sly smile covering her face.

"She so totally does not say that!" Fleur laughed, forgetting all about her foul mood for a moment. Gabrielle always had that effect on her. It was simply impossible to be mad around her.

"Hehe… Well, at least I have the courtesy to lock the door to my room when I have boys over," Gabrielle teased, pointing her fork at Fleur.

"Hey, hey, first of all: that was not my fault. I asked him to lock the door **before** he threw me on the bed, and he told me he had already done so! It's not my fault he lied to me about it!" Fleur responded, feeling the need to defend her honor, which was currently under siege by Gabrielle.

"Yeah right!" her sister laughed, shaking her head. "You're just saying that because you know I can't prove that you're lying!"

"I'm not lying! I swear that's what happened! Oh, and second of all: when have you ever had boys over?" Fleur shot back, smiling devilishly. A small blush spread itself across Gabrielle's cheeks at her words.

"I've been with t-tons of boys, you just don't know about it!"

"Hah, now it's my turn to say "yeah right". You've never had a boyfriend, have you? And the one guy you actually liked, you threw away your chance with because you were too afraid to tell him how you felt!"

"Okay, now you're just being rude," Gabrielle pouted, pretending to be hurt. "I regret ever telling you about my crush on Maximillian."

"Hey now, I'm just joking, okay? I know things didn't work out between you and Maximillian, but… don't worry too much about it, okay? You're only fourteen, there's no need for you to rush into anything yet. Hell, I'm 17 and in my final year here, and I've only ever had one semi-serious relationship!"

"That's just because you have ridiculous standards," Gabrielle countered.

"… Well, yes, maybe… But what else would you have me do? Say yes to every wide-eyed boy who proclaims his love for me? God knows I get enough of those because of our Veela Allure."

The "Allure", as they normally called it, was a special type of magic only found in Veela's that allowed them to mesmerize most members of the opposite gender with little to no effort. A Veela's looks and especially dance is hypnotically seductive to almost all male beings, which causes them to perform foolhardy and impulsive actions to get closer to, and to receive admiration from the Veela. This magic also had a downside of course, and that was that it could be very hard to find a suitable romantic partner who wasn't affected by the Allure. Just like most girls, Veela also wanted their partners to like them because of who they are, and not because of their looks or the Allure.

Being Veela also meant transforming into something akin to a Harpy when angry. A Veela's face would turn into that of a cruel-beaked bird, and long, scaly wings would sprout from their back. The transformation also allowed a Veela to launch fireballs from their hands. The fire didn't hurt Veela though, because they were mostly immune to it.

Fleur and Gabrielle, being only Quarter-Veela, weren't capable of fully transforming into the bird-like creature, but they could get quite far, and throw fireballs of slightly weaker strength than Half or Full-Veela.

"Ahh, true enough. It's hard to find an attractive guy who doesn't get all glassy-eyed and desperate when you talk to him," Gabrielle remarked wistfully, letting out a small sigh before continuing to eat her breakfast.

"Tell me about it," Fleur answered, stuffing her mouth with some toast of her own.

_I wonder if Hogwarts will have any handsome boys… I do need a date for the famed Yule Ball after all, and it wouldn't do to show up with some babbling idiot who's completely entranced by the Allure._

"Hey, I just thought of something positive about Hogwarts!" Gabrielle suddenly said, her eyebrows raised in excitement. "You'll get to meet the legendary Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter!"

"Hmmm… I guess that's right. I wonder what he's like," Fleur pondered out loud.

"Aww, I'm actually kind of jealous now! He's my age you know. Maybe he could be a suitable partner for me?" Gabrielle joked, causing Fleur to scoff.

"Well, whatever he is, I don't particularly care too much about him. He's too young to participate in the Tournament, and so he is of no concern to me."

"You know, you could at least pretend to be interested," Gabrielle lamented. "This IS one of the most famous wizards alive we're talking about here."

"Just because he's famous doesn't mean I automatically need to be interested in him," Fleur shot back, refusing to back down. She could get why people found him interesting, sure. He had single-handedly taken down a powerful Dark Wizard as a newborn child, after all, a feat which was not easily replicated. But since that night, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Harry Potter had seemingly grown up to become just your everyday wizard, going to school and having a normal childhood just like everyone else.

Little did Fleur know that Harry's childhood had been far from normal, but news of the goings-on at Hogwarts hardly ever reached the ears of a Beauxbatons student after all, and so she remained ignorant of his more recent achievements.

"No, I suppose that's true. Still though, unlike most people, you're actually going to get to meet him. That's got to count for something, right?" Gabrielle said before finishing the last of her meal and pushing her plate away from her.

"Maybe. I guess I will have to wait and see what he's like. But don't you have your first lesson soon?" Fleur asked, waving her fork around in circles with one hand as she spoke.

"Yup, I do. So I'll see you later, given that I survive Miss Aurèlie's Transfiguration lesson," her sister answered with a smile before standing up from the table and making her way out of the Dining Chamber. Fleur watched her go with detached interest, her mind racing with a million thoughts. The first Triwizard Tournament to be held in years, and she was going to sign herself up for it. She had so many questions, and equally as many worries. One thing was for sure though: this was not going to be anywhere close to a normal school Year.

* * *

**Hogwarts Dungeons**

Severus Snape was annoyed. Really annoyed. He had been toiling away at this investigation for months now, and only made minimal progress. The other teachers had given up a long time ago, content with letting the accident slide by and hope it didn't happen again. Severus couldn't do that. Something had attacked Hogwarts all those months ago. Something, or as he suspected, **someone** had killed Blaise Zabini, a member of his House. One of his proud Slytherins.

Such a vile act could not go unpunished. The perpetrator had to be caught. He simply had to. There was no other option. Severus was not going to give up like the others. He would continue this investigation for as long as needed, even if it took him years.

That didn't make his lack of progress any less annoying though. Whoever or whatever had attacked Hogwarts had done a damned good job of cleaning up after themselves. So far, Severus had found virtually zero evidence that could be linked to any student, and his options were growing scarcer by the day. There was precious little left for him to investigate. Precious few avenues left to be explored.

It was obvious that whatever had attacked the school had not been some kind of animal or creature from the Forbidden Forest. Such a thing would have left clues, fragments of material that could be found and traced. No, this perpetrator was something else entirely. A being that could seemingly appear and disappear at will, wreaking havoc as it pleased and leave nothing behind. How was he supposed to find such a creature? It was like trying to trace the exact location a gust of wind originated from. Mind-numbingly frustrating.

But he was not going to give up. He knew he would find something eventually, a tiny shred of evidence that could give him an idea of what or who had committed the act. The only problem was finding it. That first piece of the puzzle.

Until then, he would keep looking. Keep searching. It had to turn up eventually. And when it did, he was going to be there to snatch it up before it had the chance to disappear forever.

_Whatever or whoever you are… I will find you. You can be absolutely sure of that. No matter how long it takes, I will find you. All I have to do… is wait._

* * *

**Hogsmeade**

Meanwhile, a couple of miles away, Harry and his friends were walking through the streets of Hogsmeade, taking in the views and the atmosphere of the quaint little village. It was by no means a big place, as remotely positioned and small as it was, but it was the only all-wizarding village in Britain, and the only place you could get a good mug of Butterbeer. It was also the only train station for miles, and as such acted as the go-to location for Hogwarts students looking for a little adventure.

The village itself was nothing special. It consisted of a dozen or so cottages and shops spread out on either side of the main road that cut straight through the middle. The most famous shops included Zonko's Joke Shop, where one could buy all manner of toys and prank products, the Honeydukes Sweets Shop and The Three Broomsticks Inn. Said inn was currently where Harry and his friends were headed, as Luna had decided she wanted a mug of Butterbeer for lunch on this relatively nice Saturday afternoon.

"You know, I've only been here a handful of times, but I gotta say, this is easily the coziest place I've ever been to. Everything is just so… calm," Harry stated casually as their little group of 4 walked down the relatively packed streets of Hogsmeade. "It's almost like it's trapped in time, never changing, never evolving. I bet it looked identical to this even back when my parents were students."

"Pretty much," Hermione agreed, nodding her head sagely. "According to tradition, Hogsmeade was founded over a thousand years ago, around the same time as Hogwarts, by the medieval wizard Hengist of Woodcroft as he was fleeing persecution by Muggles. Over time, it gradually grew into a small community, until it eventually reached its peak around 300 years ago."

"Huh, that's… vaguely interesting, I suppose. It's not surprising that you of all people would know something like that, being the knowledge-addict that you are," Harry remarked drily, earning him an eyeroll from Hermione.

"Hey, you're almost as bad as me, you know. I bet we spend equal amounts of time at the library!"

"Well, that may be true, but unlike you, I don't waste my time reading about villages and boring medieval history. I study magic, in all of its forms," Harry shot back, inwardly noting the slight twitch of Hermione's right eye as he spoke. Uh oh. He would pay for that one later. There would be minimal kissing today.

"History is not **boring** , it's important! Not that I'd expect you to understand that!"

"Alright, that's enough out of you two," Luna cut in, fixing the both of them with a stern, yet still slightly cloudy, look. "We didn't come here to listen to your domestic disputes, we came here to have a good time and drink some Butterbeer. So simmer down before you attract any more Nargles."

This time, it was their fourth member, Neville, who spoke up.

"Uhm… Luna? W-What do you mean by "Nargles"? I've never h-heard of such a creature."

"Oh, that's not surprising. Many people don't even believe they exist, and the few that do consider them nearly extinct. But both me and my dad believe in them. They are attracted to chaos and disputes, and are mischievous little thieves," she explained, nodding her head enthusiastically all the while.

"Riiiight," Harry mumbled, clearly not convinced that Nargles was actually a thing. Even Hermione looked a little skeptical of Luna's statement, and she was the one who was supposed to know these types of things.

"It's okay if you guys don't believe in them, plenty of people don't. But I know they exist, because they have stolen my shoes a bunch of times."

Harry and Hermione shared a look at Luna's words. They both knew she was being bullied by the other girls in Ravenclaw, the only question was what they were supposed to do with it. It wasn't like the others would stop even if they told them to.

Their little group continued on their journey to The Three Broomsticks, and within a short amount of time, they were standing in front of the door leading in to the old-fashioned building. It was by no means an impressive-looking structure, as archaic and antiquated as it was, but it still carried with it a certain charm that no other shop in Hogsmeade could claim to have.

Pushing open the front door with one hand, Harry stepped back to let the others enter before he followed them in moments after. The inside of the building felt warm and cozy against his skin, a stark contrast to the slightly chilly wind blowing outdoors.

The inn was filled to the brim with students and wizards of all ages, and their little group had to spend a good few minutes trying to find an empty table before they found one they could sit down at.

"It's surprisingly full here today," Harry noted as he looked out over the noisy sea of people in front of him. "Didn't expect there to be so many."

"It's almost a-always like this," Neville responded, nodding his head. "The Three Broomsticks is the m-most popular pub in all of Hogsmeade. It's n-never empty."

"The Butterbeer they serve here is super delicious," Luna added, sending Neville a warm smile which made the poor boy flush a deep shade of crimson.

 _What was that reaction? … Does Neville fancy Luna or something?_ Harry absentmindedly thought to himself, before being interrupted by the sound of a female witch walking over to their table.

"Welcome to The Three Broomsticks! What can I get for you four?" the witch asked, looking at the four of them with a mix of slight curiosity before her gaze finally landed on Harry's forehead.

_Shit, I forgot to cover it up._

"Ahh, so I see Harry Potter has come to visit my humble establishment. Well, that certainly doesn't happen every day. I'm Madam Rosmerta, the landlady of this here fine pub, and it is my pleasure to serve you today."

The witch (who Harry now knew was Madam Rosmerta) was a curvy sort of woman, fairly attractive with her blonde hair and green eyes. Harry had never actually met her in the flesh before, but he had overheard some of the other boys talking about her, and it seemed that quite a lot of them fancied her. Harry could definitely see why.

"Well, no need for special treatment. I'm just another guest, so please treat me as such. It might surprise you to hear this, but I'm not particularly fond of my fame," Harry answered matter-of-factly, causing Madam Rosmerta to raise an eyebrow and Hermione to sigh.

"… Well, if you insist. Now, what can I get for you?"

"Oh! Four Butterbeers!" Luna chimed in before anyone else had a chance to speak, taking the liberty of ordering for all of them.

"Alright, four… Butterbeers… Will that be all?"

"Yes!"

"Okay then, give me five minutes and I'll be back with your drinks."

Turning around, Madam Rosmerta swiftly left their table without further inquiry, leaving the four of them alone again.

"Uhh… Luna? I was a-actually going to order s-something else," Neville stuttered, looking slightly confused at having his ability to choose for himself taken away from him.

"No you weren't," Luna smiled in reply, causing him to look even more confused.

"Just roll with it," Harry sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "Luna does this kind of thing every now and again. She doesn't mean to be rude, so just let it go."

"O-Okay then."

"I've never actually had Butterbeer before," Hermione commented, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face and looking around with detached interest. "I've heard it tastes good though."

"Oh, it's the best! You're going to love it!" Luna beamed, apparently very much in love with this foreign drink neither Harry nor Hermione had ever tried.

"According to what I've heard, it tastes like slightly less-sickly butterscotch. Now I've never actually wanted to ingest butterscotch in liquid form before, but maybe this… will…" Harry let his sentence trail off as his eyes locked in on something at the opposite end of the inn.

Right there, only a couple of meters away, sat Draco Malfoy, drinking Butterbeer with some female witch from Slytherin that Harry hadn't bothered to learn the name of. He looked very content, happily chatting along with the witch, exchanging jokes and smiles. Just the sight of it made Harry angry to his core.

_How dare he sit there and enjoy himself after doing something like that to Hermione?_

Harry could feel the fury rising within him, the ice-cold creature that resided in his mind waking to life at the sight of his second most hated adversary. The creature growled and wheezed, drumming against his chest and consuming his thoughts, demanding to be set free.

The others around the table must have noticed that something was wrong, because they quickly followed Harry's eyes to see what had him so riled up. Once they realized it was Draco he was staring at though, they turned back to Harry with newfound confusion, not really understanding why he was so angry at the boy. Only Hermione truly grasped the situation, and let out a soft gasp as her eyes landed on the blonde haired boy.

"Harry, don't!" she said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. But it was too late. Harry was already on his way up.

"Excuse me, I've got some… business… to attend to," Harry gnarled, his legs already walking towards the Malfoy heir with adamant resolve. Harry was not going to let this opportunity slip by. Draco was going to receive his punishment **today**.

It didn't take long for Draco to notice the person walking towards him, and Harry couldn't help but smile in satisfaction as he noticed the sudden fear in the boy's eyes. Draco KNEW what was going to happen now.

"W-Well well. If it isn't Potter," he started, his hand already making its way towards the wand in his robe pocket. "Didn't expect to see you and your gaggle of losers here."

"Outside. Now," Harry barked in response, not bothering to entertain the boy's challenge to a verbal sparring. This was going to be a largely physical affair. Words were not enough to satiate his anger.

"And what makes you t-think I'll do as you command?" Draco tried, attempting to put up a brave front despite feeling anything but brave.

"Because I will break your fucking neck right here and now if you don't," Harry snarled, pointing his wand directly at the Malfoy heir's face. The people around them all gasped and let out sounds of surprise as they heard his words.

"Y-You wouldn't do that…"

" **Fucking try me**."

"Okay! Okay! Just… calm down. No need for this to get violent!"

Draco was stuttering now, clearly terrified at the thought of what Harry was going to do to him. Going after Hermione had not been smart. Damn that Weasley rat and his bloody suggestions.

Harry continued pointing his wand at Draco as the couple made their way outside of The Three Broomsticks, heading towards a nearby clearing for some much needed privacy. Once they arrived, he finally dropped his wand and put it back in his pocket. This seemed to calm down Draco, as he took a deep breath and sighed theatrically.

"See? I knew we could talk this out like real men, and not savages. Now, why did you bring me out he…"

He didn't get to say more than that, as Harry's fist collided with his face in a brutal punch at that exact moment. Draco's head snapped around at the power of the hit, and he fell to the ground in a painful heap as his world spun.

"Think you can hurt my best friend like that, huh!?" Harry screamed as he jumped on top of the now dazed Malfoy heir, reading his fist for yet another punch.

"N… Ngh…" Draco wheezed, not quite managing to open his mouth. Harry didn't bother to wait for a reply as he crashed his fist into the boy's face yet again.

" **Think you can just do whatever the hell you want without there being any consequences?!** "

Harry's voice was beginning to warp now, his words taking on a much darker tone than earlier as his anger and the Obscurus within him melded together into one vicious beast.

Draco was bleeding heavily now, a steady stream of red dripping from both his mouth and his nostrils. He couldn't speak or even scream as Harry continued landing blow after blow on his body, his mind disoriented and barely cognizant.

" **Next time, I will rip your fucking organs out you filthy cretin, so don't you EVER try anything like that ever again!"**

Standing up and wiping away some of Draco's blood from his face, Harry finished the beating with one final kick to the boy's ribs, causing him to retch before falling back down and remaining completely still.

Meanwhile, as all of this was going down, a small crowd had gathered around the two of them, watching the spectacle with a mix of morbid curiosity and horror. Nobody there had the courage to step in and break them up, as they were all feeling the effects of the rolling waves of malice and anger that were radiating from Harry.

Once Harry realized he had a crowd, however, he took one last look down at his opponent before turning around and walking away. The people parted to let him through, all of them terrified he would do something to them if they tried to stop him.

He was vaguely aware of the presence of Hermione, following after him as he headed towards the path that would take him back to Hogwarts. It wasn't before a couple of minutes later though that he finally calmed down enough to turn around and talk to her.

"What do you want?" he asked, holding out his arms in a show of outrage.

"Harry, what the fuck did you just do?!" she yelled, walking up to him and slapping him clean across the face. The hit barely registered in Harry's brain, as doped on adrenalin as he was.

"I gave that little fucker what was coming to him," Harry responded, taking a deep breath to regain some of his composure. "He'll know better than to fuck with us next time."

"Next time?! Harry, you almost killed him! A little more and there wouldn't have been a next time!"

"And so what, Hermione?! So what if he had died? I would be doing us all a fucking favor!"

"Yeah, and guess what, you'd also go to Azkaban for life! What is wrong with you?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Harry suddenly screamed, falling to his knees. "I JUST FEEL SO ANGRY ALL THE TIME. EVERY TIME I SEE HIM I WANT TO KILL HIM."

Letting out a gasp, Hermione held her hand in front of her mouth as tears started welling in her eyes. She hadn't expected him to respond like that.

"W… What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean exactly what I said! I don't know what's wrong with me! It's this fucking Obscurus, messing with my head and my temper…"

Harry could feel the tears threatening to spill out, but he refused to cry now. He wasn't going to break down like a weak little coward, he was stronger than that.

"The… Obscurus? But… I thought that disappeared after…" Hermione breathed, a lone tear streaking down the side of her face. It hurt Harry's heart to see her cry, but right now, there wasn't anything he could do about it.

"No, it didn't. It was always there, right under the surface. It was just… biding its time."

"But… I don't…"

Getting back on his feet, Harry slowly approached the now crying Hermione, his mind finally starting to return to its senses. He hated to see her like this, and his heart cried out for him to comfort her.

"No… not now. I don't want you… anywhere near me, right now," Hermione sniffed, shaking her head violently from side to side.

"Hermione…" he groaned, the newly formed lump in his throat growing exponentially in size.

"Go away… Just… Go away," she cried, before pushing herself past him and running off towards Hogwarts.

"… No… Come back… I didn't…"

He didn't pursue her though. He let her run off, his heart sinking in his chest with every step she took away from him.

_Dear Godric, what have I done…?_


	19. Act 2: Consequences and Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.
> 
> A/N: Decided to post this chapter earlier than planned because some of you are way too quick to jump to conclusions :) Remember: this story is still far from over.

The days following Harry's assault on Draco were not… well, particularly peaceful. Shortly after returning from Hogsmeade, Harry was apprehended by the teachers and taken to an empty classroom for interrogation. Here, they asked him about what had happened during his visit to the village, and Harry, seeing no point in lying about it, had chosen to tell them the truth. They had all looked positively crestfallen after hearing his story. Harry supposed they had never thought the beloved "Boy-Who-Lived" capable of committing such a seemingly senseless act of violence.

Naturally, he had purposefully omitted the part about the Obscurus during his confession. There was no way he was going to tell them about **that** any time soon.

As an initial punishment for his actions, Professor Flitwick, who was the Head of House Ravenclaw, had chosen to relocate Harry to a different, stand-alone room in the Dungeons in order to keep him separated from his Housemates. Flitwick seemed to think that due to his violent attack on Draco, Harry was now to be considered dangerous, and thus not fit to sleep in the same room as the other students for the time being.

That wasn't all that bad, though. Harry had no problems with getting a room of his own, even if it was tiny, made of stone and hit sub-zero temperatures at night.

That, however, hadn't been the end of his problems. Rumor had spread quickly amongst the students that there had been some sort of fight at Hogsmeade, and once people figured out that Harry Potter was involved, they had become almost ravenous to learn more. This had resulted in him being followed around and harassed with constant questions and heckling about the fight for days. Harry had allowed this to continue for some time before finally hitting his breaking point, and promptly telling the worst of his stalkers to fuck off before he did the same to them as he had done to Draco.

Speaking of Draco, he had been sent to the Hospital Wing to recover from the beating. Harry had rather accurately predicted that the little parasite would go bitching and whining to his father the instant he regained enough of his strength to do so, and sure enough, that was precisely what had happened. Harry was sure Lucius Malfoy would look at it as the perfect opportunity to go after him.

And, to top it all off, Hermione had refused to talk to him or even be around him ever since the incident, so there was that.

Despite all of this though, there had been precious few real, hard-hitting consequences to his attack on Draco. Harry was almost surprised at how reluctant they seemed to punish him. For a second, it even seemed like he would get away with the whole thing almost scot-free.

That was, until he was summoned to the Headmaster's Office.

* * *

**Headmaster's Office**

"I hope you realize that you've put me in a very difficult position here, Harry," Albus Dumbledore sighed, pushing his half-moon spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. "To be quite frank, the Ministry is more than a little displeased with you, and, despite my best efforts, I fear my words may not carry enough weight to quell their outrage. There will be consequences for this, Harry."

Harry, having absolutely nothing to say in his defense, wisely chose to remain silent, letting his gaze stay on the mahogany desk in front of him rather than on the Headmaster. He felt too embarrassed, too ashamed to even look at him. Why had he gone off on Draco like that? It wasn't like him to let his anger cloud his judgement. To let his emotions control his decisions. But, judging by the severity of what he had done to the boy, this time, he had seemingly completely lost it. He had beaten Draco to within an inch of his life, and left him there bleeding on the ground. There had been no mercy in him, no wish to hold back. He wasn't even sure if what he had done was for Hermione's sake anymore. It felt more like an act of pure hatred, committed solely for his own catharsis.

He knew he had most likely been influenced by the Obscurus residing within him, but could such anger really come solely from repressed magical energy? Somehow, he doubted it. And he sure as hell couldn't use it as an excuse to defend himself. That would include admitting to everyone that he had kept the Obscurus, a potentially life-threatening entity, hidden from the world for over a year, which was no doubt illegal in its own right. And, as if that wasn't enough, admitting to having an Obscurus growing within him could easily connect him to the "attack" on Hogwarts last year, which would do nothing but result in his ass skedaddling right on over to Azkaban.

Right now, it felt like everything was falling apart around him. And Harry didn't know what to do about it.

"I do not know what could possibly have motivated you to commit such a heinous act, but now that it is done, there is precious little I can do to help you. In a couple of days, you will be summoned to the Wizengamot to stand trial for the crime of causing great bodily harm to a member of an esteemed Pureblood House. Given that you are still a minor, you do not have to fear being sent to Azkaban, as that punishment is only given to adults, and in response to severe crimes like murder or use of the Unforgivable Curses."

Harry could do nothing but nod in response to the Headmaster's words, his shame and self-loathing for acting so rashly on his emotions too strong for him to overcome in that moment.

"I am sure that a great many people will be very disappointed to hear that the Boy-Who-Lived would commit such an act. If your parents were still around to see this, I have no doubt in my mind that they would be very upset with you for this, Harry."

This time though, he couldn't stop himself from answering.

"Well, maybe if they were still around, Headmaster, I wouldn't have turned out like this."

The old man looked at him for a moment, before letting out a tired sigh.

"We mustn't place the blame for our own shortcomings elsewhere, Harry. Whilst you have undeniably suffered greater tragedy in your life than most, **you** are ultimately the one in control of **your** life. Therefore, nobody else can be blamed for your actions except yourself."

A lie, of course, given that Harry was in no way, shape or form in "control" of his own life, but that was not something Dumbledore was going to share with him any time soon. Harry Potter had to remain ignorant of the fact that he would ultimately have to die at the hands of Voldemort for the prophecy to come full circle. If he told him that, there was no way in hell Harry would willingly choose to sacrifice himself to preserve Britain. And the sacrifice had to be made willingly. Dumbledore was sure of that.

Needless to say, he wasn't planning on letting Harry go to Azkaban either though, no matter what crime he committed or may commit in the future. He was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot after all, so if he put his full weight behind a decision, precious few would dare stand against him. Even so, this little stunt by Harry had placed him in a very bad position, and that was not something he appreciated coming from the boy who was one day supposed to lead the forces of Good against the forces of Evil. Harry could not become a Hero of the people if the people hated him, after all.

"… You're right, Headmaster. I'm sorry… It just slipped out."

"Don't be sorry, Harry. Be better. This whole charade… it's beneath you. You can be so much more than just a petty criminal with a penchant for violence. Your capacity to do good… it's greater than you realize."

Harry had to mentally restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

_Always so concerned about Good and Evil… Has Dumbledore ever even considered the possibility that there might exist something in-between those two? Like a moral grey-zone?_

"I swear I shall do my best to be… better, then," Harry replied evenly, inwardly cringing at his own words.

"That is all I ask. Now then, I believe I have taken up enough of your time as is. You should return to your room in the Dungeons, as it is getting rather late."

And just like that, the Headmaster was back to acting like a caring grandfather.

"Thank you, Headmaster, I will."

Rising from his seat, Harry gave the old man a short nod of "respect" before turning around to leave the office. Albus watched as he left, his gaze equal parts concerned and contemplative. There was just something a little bit… off… about Harry these days. Like he had some sort of dark cloud hanging over his head wherever he went. Albus couldn't quite place his finger on what it was, but he was sure there was something afoot. And it infuriated him to no end that he couldn't figure out what.

* * *

**Hogwarts Dungeons**

Letting himself fall down into his bed, Harry let out a long sigh of exhaustion as his face collided with the pillow. Everything was going so horribly wrong all of a sudden, and the worst part about it was that he knew it was his fault. He had messed up. He had acted on his irrational emotions, and ended up going nuclear on Draco. And even if he didn't exactly regret beating the living daylight out of that smug asshole, he did regret the consequences that would follow because of it.

_If only I could get Hermione to talk to me…_

As much as he hated to admit it, he had really grown to care about her over the past few years. And their… escapades… during the summer vacation had only strengthened those feelings. He missed being with her, even if it had only been a few days since their Hogsmeade trip.

_And just as our relationship was taking some very… interesting turns as well…_

Turning around in the bed to stare at the ceiling, he allowed his thoughts to wander. Ever since the end of his Second Year at Hogwarts, Harry's life had slowly but surely been going downwards. Sure, he had made some new friends, and even developed what he thought was proper feelings for Hermione, but everything else surrounding that seemed to be steadily going to shit:

His Obscurus-condition was gradually deteriorating.

Voldemort had been strangely absent last year, which was worrying in more ways than one.

He was still not completely free of the Dursleys yet (as his arrangement with Dumbledore had only counted for one summer vacation).

His godfather, Sirius Black, was still on the run from the Ministry after being framed for a crime he didn't commit.

_Why does everything always have to go wrong for me? It feels like I spend more and more time every day trying to put out fires…_

Harry could feel himself growing more and more agitated by the second, the Obscurus within him seemingly waking to life at the thought of how unfair his life was.

_Why do I have to be the "Boy-Who-Lived"? I never asked for this life… I never asked for ANY of this!_

Rising from the bed, Harry let out a shaky breath in an attempt to control the sudden rush of anger.

None of this was fair. He had never done anything wrong. From the moment he was born into this cold world, everything had been going wrong for him. Every single fucking thing. He could never catch a break. If it wasn't the Obscurus or some other shit, it was Voldemort, trying to fuck with his life and his friends. Harry alone had to face him. Harry alone had to stand tall.

It wasn't like he could rely on anyone else to help him. Dumbledore, who was supposed to be the strongest wizard alive, was seemingly more preoccupied with meddling in other people's business than helping him defeat Voldemort. Hermione, his only true friend, refused to talk to him. Luna and Neville were avoiding him, probably to save their own skin and avoid being associated with him now that he had gone full Mortal Kombat on Draco's ass.

It was all just so fucking unfair, and aggravating, and annoying, and…

And then, it suddenly hit him. Out of nowhere, like lightning from a clear sky.

The book. The fucking book. He had completely forgotten about it, ever since he had brought it with him to Hermione's place. It had been lying in his trunk this entire time, forgotten and neglected, collecting dust.

Walking over to the corner of his little room, Harry bent over and opened the trunk containing his belongings. Rummaging through its interior, he finally felt something leathery brush against his fingertips. Grabbing ahold of it, he lifted it up and out into the light, the cloth covering its title already stripped halfway down.

 _Daemonis Magicka_.

The mysterious book sent to him by an unknown person for unknown reasons. Radiating waves of pure malice and darkness, like a wellspring of negative energy. Even now, Harry sensed its nefarious aura, tempting him to look closer and learn more about its dark secrets.

He had been scared of it before. It had felt so evil, so **wrong** that he had chosen to hide it away. But now, the ghoulish whispers in his mind felt oddly inviting. Familiar, like the voice of an old friend that he hadn't seen in a long time.

Ripping away the cloth, Harry opened the book and took a look at the first page.

 **TO THE TORMENTED SOULS OF THOSE UNWILLING TO ABIDE BY OTHERS RULES**.

The familiar sentence, written in crooked letters, greeted him as he stared down at the yellowed paper. He remembered how it had made him feel the first time he had read it, and it still evoked the same emotion in his heart. Intrigue, mixed with excitement.

Flipping over to the next page, Harry was instantly reminded why he had not made any further progress in the book last time. The entire thing was filled with text, all of it written in Latin. It would be completely useless to him unless he took the time to translate it.

Letting out a snort of frustration, he closed the book with a heavy thud and placed it back amongst his belongings, making sure to cover the title with a piece of cloth. His mind had been thoroughly intrigued by this mystery, and the negative energy that the book gave off didn't bother him anymore. There was no way he was going to hide it away for another semester. He knew exactly what he had to do next. A trip to the Library was needed.

_Now where did I leave that Invisibility Cloak?_

* * *

**Headmaster's Office**

There it was again! That odd abnormality he had first sensed coming from Ravenclaw Tower last year. A speck of Dark Magic, disturbing the usual flow of magical energy radiating throughout the ancient stone castle. Something so wrong and entirely evil that it had no right to exist in this world.

As usual, the magical signature had only been there for a moment before vanishing just as rapidly. But this time, it hadn't originated from Ravenclaw Tower. It had come from the Dungeons.

Placing the old tome he currently had in his hands back into one of the massive bookshelves adorning the walls of his office, Dumbledore took a moment to ponder the nature of this Dark entity that seemed to pop in and out of existence every now and then. What was causing it to appear in his castle? Someone casting a particularly Dark spell perhaps? … No, it couldn't be that. Spells and charms had a distinctive flair to them that this particular magical signature did not possess. This had to be something else entirely.

Walking over to his desk, Dumbledore absentmindedly started stroking the head of Fawkes, the phoenix he kept as his companion. The bird seemed to tense up for a moment, as if struggling to decide whether or not it should let him pet it, before seemingly settling on letting him. The phoenix had gotten surprisingly hesitant around him lately. Albus didn't know what to make of that.

It was pretty obvious at this point that the Dark entity and Harry were connected somehow. He didn't know how or in what capacity, but they definitely had some correlation to each other. The first time he had felt it, the magical signature had been coming from Ravenclaw Tower. Harry had most definitely been there at that time. And now, after moving him to his own room in the Dungeons, the signature was suddenly coming from there instead. Even a toddler could make out the connection at that point.

The question was just **what** was leaking such potent Dark energy. Dumbledore didn't know of any item in Harry's possession capable of omitting such an evil aura, bar perhaps the Invisibility Cloak that was secretly a Deathly Hallow. But Dumbledore had held the Cloak in his own hands at some point, and the thing hadn't given off much of a magical aura at all. If anything, it had felt positively hollow of magic, which was perhaps fitting given its nature.

No, Albus would have to make a much more serious inquiry into this matter at a later date. Right now, he had his hands full dealing with other problems, such as the preparation for the Triwizard Tournament and Harry's upcoming court case in the Wizengamot. Whatever the Dark entity was, it would have to wait.

* * *

**Room of Requirement**

"H-He's going to be o-okay, Hermione," Neville Longbottom stammered, dragging Hermione right out of her daydream.

"What? Who's going to be okay?" Hermione replied, not quite understanding what Neville was getting at.

"Harry, o-obviously. You don't need to worry about him. He's s-strong. He won't let this weigh him down."

Feeling her cheeks redden ever so slightly at the mention of Harry's name, Hermione let out a sound halfway between a scoff and sniffle, feigning indifference.

"Why would I care about him? We're... through. I've put up with his antics for a long time now, but this time, he crossed the line."

"Hermione…"

"I think that's a lie," Luna Lovegood interjected, causing the both of them to direct their attention towards her instead.

"A-And why do you think that?" Hermione asked, trying desperately to defend what she in her heart knew to be false.

"Because in reality, you're constantly thinking about him. It's quite easy to see. You often zone out of conversations, and get this really distant, longing look on your face. I don't think you can make it any more obvious if you tried," Luna replied casually, completely destroying what was left of Hermione's weak defense.

"W-Well… I… That…"

"It's okay, you don't have to feel ashamed. Harry did a really bad thing, but I'm sure he must've had a reason to do so. The Harry I know would never do something like that out of nowhere," Luna smiled, wandering over to one of the nearby training dummies that Hermione had conjured up when she materialized the Room earlier that day.

"…"

"Personally, I've already forgiven him. I'd love to give him a big hug and tell him everything's going to be okay. But sadly, I am already a target for the other students in Ravenclaw, and I don't want to make things worse for myself by hanging around Harry right now when his reputation is as bad as it is. I'm already a known friend of his from before, so I get enough harassment based on that alone."

Hermione supposed that was understandable enough. Both her and Harry knew how often Luna got bullied by the other students, and despite her general carefree and dreamy attitude, it would be weird if their bad behavior towards her didn't affect her in some way or other. She understood why Luna wouldn't want to make things even worse by giving them yet another thing to target her for, at least.

But Hermione didn't have that kind of excuse to hide behind. Everyone at school already considered the two of them lovers, as they had for years. Whatever reputation Hermione may have had at some point in time had long since been torn to shreds. If anything, the others would consider it weird that Hermione **wasn't** hanging around Harry, even after the rumors of his violent behavior started spreading.

And in truth, she wanted to be with him. To stand proud next to him and help him carry the burden of being the Boy-Who-Lived. But everything had become so complicated. The feelings she had for him, combined with their long history together, made everything so blurry. And Harry wasn't doing much to help with that. Acting like an overprotective boyfriend to the point where he would beat Draco senseless was **not** the type of behavior she wanted from him. And whilst a small part of her was a little flattered he would go so far for her; she knew it was not right.

"You don't have to say anything, we both understand how important Harry is to you. He's your best friend after all, and friendships like that don't just break overnight, even if they are subjected to bad things," Luna finished, turning around to send Hermione a warm, almost childish smile. It was so pure it almost hurt to look at.

 _He's a lot more than just my best friend_.

"A-Anyhow… we should get back to the matter at hand," Hermione stated, putting on her "tough teacher" act in order to reel the conversation back into safer waters. "I was about to teach you about the Mending Charm, remember?"

"Oh y-yeah. About that…" Neville asked, raising his hand out of instinct for just a moment before seemingly remembering that they were not in a classroom at the moment, and that Hermione was not an official teacher.

"Yes, Neville?"

"Why a-are you teaching us this s-stuff again?"

The memory of the vow she and Harry had made that night in her guest room at home flashed before her eyes, and she had to fight to suppress the sudden pain that threatened to flare up in her chest.

"Because..."

The reason behind it was obvious. It was because Voldemort was still out there, gathering strength and planning his next move. Because she was afraid that Neville and Luna might not be ready for the return of the Dark Lord. That they lacked the magical prowess and knowhow to protect themselves should another War break out.

"B-Because what?"

"Because…"

Closing her eyes, she made peace with her decision to tell them the truth.

"Because Voldemort is still alive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next chapter will be released tomorrow!


	20. Act 2: A Dangerous Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.
> 
> A/N: The story continues!

**Hogwarts Dungeons**

Putting down the quill he had in his hand, Harry leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh of relief. It had taken him hours, but finally, he had managed to transcribe the first 5 pages of the book. Afternoon had come and gone since he started, and even though the room he was in had no windows, he could easily tell that it was probably late into the evening at this point.

His discoveries so far worried him about as much as they excited him. The rituals described in this book were dark, darker than anything he'd come across before. The instructions for most of them involved everything from bleeding yourself to the brink of death to human sacrifices, something he honestly thought was a little cliché, but perhaps expected of something that gave off such an ominous aura.

It all started with the first ritual, which the book referred to as the "Awakening". This seemed to be a prerequisite to performing any of the other ones that came after it. You needed the first ritual to unlock some kind of "potential" within you, which would then let you take use of the power from the later ones. Simple enough in theory, correct? But it had a catch. Performing the Awakening ritual carried with it a rather impressive risk of death, due to the way it worked.

According to the book, during the Awakening, your magical core would be broken down and reconstructed into an entirely new entity that had its own special properties. In other words, you would momentarily **lose** the ability to perform magic as the ritual broke down your very core in order to put it back together again in a different shape. Destroying your own magical core like this was, needless to say, beyond stupid and most often equivalent to suicide for wizards and witches. Not to mention that the ritual itself required immense amounts of magical energy to work, which it in theory was supposed to get from the ingredients you had to prepare ahead of time.

The ingredient list for the Awakening ritual consisted of a cauldron that was to be placed over a hot fire, frighteningly large amounts of human blood, a bezoar to be added into the mix later and a sharp knife with Abraxan hair twirled around it that had been coated in Unicorn's Blood. It wasn't too convoluted of a recipe, but the main problem was the Unicorn's Blood. That stuff was strictly regulated by the Ministry and highly illegal, which only made it that much more difficult to obtain. The only place Harry could think of where he might be able to get his hands on some was Knockturn Alley, but due to its illegal nature it was most likely going to cost him a fortune. Luckily enough for him though, he happened to have a fortune.

The latest reports he had received from Gringotts last month estimated his total fortune to be around 61250 Galleons, which equated to about 306,250 Pound sterling. Of that money, he currently had access to around 26000 Galleons, due to the scheme he had set up during his First Year where he would deposit the maximum amount of money allowed to be withdrawn into a secondary bank account where it would then accumulate over time. Of those 26000 Galleons though, he had probably used roughly five to six hundred during his past few years at Hogwarts, meaning that his true "net worth" was somewhere in the region of 25400 Galleons. A decent amount of money to be sure, enormous compared to what most other teenagers his age had, but there was definite room for improvement.

_With that many Galleons to my name though, I should easily be able to buy enough Unicorn's Blood to perform the ritual. I'll have to risk the trip to Knockturn Alley, but that should be simple enough if I apparate from the Room of Requirement to Diagon Alley._

The thought of having to perform his first long-range Apparition did make him feel a little uneasy, but he figured it would probably be okay as long as he remembered the Three D's of Apparition: Destination, Determination and Deliberation. To quote Hermione: "One has to be completely determined to reach one's destination, and move without haste, but with deliberation."

_But really… why the hell am I doing this?_

Procuring the ingredients for the ritual was one thing; actually performing it was the crazy part. The instructions for how to successfully perform the Awakening were grim to say the least.

_This ritual… it's beyond ludicrous. Chances are I'll just mess up and die an extremely painful death. So why am I bothering?_

Harry already knew why though, of course. It always came back to that one thing, after all. Voldemort. It was always Voldemort.

_Ever since I was born, that fucker has been messing with me, controlling my fate. Killing my parents, hurting my friends, ripping away my chance at a normal life. He is the reason I was stuck with the Dursleys for all those years. He is the reason I have this Obscurus growing inside of me. He is the reason for everything shitty thing that has ever happened in my life._

Feeling his anger starting to flare up again, Harry looked back down at the book in front of him. This thing, this Dark artifact here… it represented something so much bigger than just an evil piece of literature. It represented an opportunity. A chance for Harry to finally get out ahead. A way for him to win in a game that had been rigged against him from the start.

He knew that if he had to face Voldemort as he was now, he would not win. He simply wasn't strong enough to take on the Dark Lord, no matter how many friends or allies he managed to scrape together. Voldemort had, quite literally, found a way to cheat death after all.

So Harry needed this. He needed a way to level the playing field, and this book of Dark rituals might just be it.

_Nothing ventured, nothing gained…_

Getting up from his seat, Harry grabbed the Invisibility Cloak from the trunk next to his bed and headed out of his room in the Dungeons. Outside, the castle of Hogwarts was dead silent, making his footsteps sound that much louder as he walked. Pulling the cloak tighter around himself, he upped the pace as he ventured towards the Seventh Floor, inwardly reflecting on what lay ahead. He was going to be visiting Knockturn Alley for the first time in his life, and late into the evening hours at that. He needed to be ready for anything.

_I don't particularly feel like getting mugged tonight, after all._

Walking up the Grand Staircase, Harry took a moment to appreciate the novelty of being completely alone in such a massive room. Normally, this place was crowded with students travelling to and from classes, making it hard to ascend quickly. Now though, he could take up as much space as he wanted to. Nobody would be throwing annoying remarks at him either, as all of the portraits were asleep at this hour, their animated bodies snoring loudly from their position on the walls.

_A lot has happened since I first arrived at Hogwarts… Back then, this staircase seemed like the biggest mystery in the world. Now though, it is just another means of getting around the castle._

Shaking away the nostalgia, Harry focused his mind on the task at hand. He didn't have the time to be reminiscing about the old days now. The past was behind him. The future was all that mattered.

A short while later, he arrived at the Seventh Floor and the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Walking back and forth three times, he watched with detached interest as the two iron doors appeared in front of him. He had been to this room so many times now that summoning the door had become second nature to him. It was no longer difficult to get it to materialize.

Placing his hands on either side, he pushed forwards with force and entered the room, the massive door closing shut behind him. He immediately realized that something was wrong.

The inside of the room did not look even remotely similar to what he had envisioned. He had wanted a simple room with no furniture to apparate from. This, however, looked like an expanded version of the girls' dorm in Ravenclaw Tower.

_What in the world…?_

Taking it all in, he noticed something very different about his surroundings. Where there in the original version of this room would usually be multiple beds belonging to different students, there were now rows upon rows of bookcases, filled to the brim with documents and papers. It almost looked like someone had taken the girls' dorm and turned it into a library instead.

Inching forwards under the cover of his cloak, Harry gradually made his way deeper into the room, before stopping dead in his tracks as his eyes landed on the queen-sized bed all the way in the back. There was only one, and it looked nothing like the usual Hogwarts-issued beds the students had. But that wasn't his main concern. The problem was that the bed currently had someone sleeping in it.

Holding his breath, Harry squinted into the darkness to get a better look at whoever had decided to turn the Room of Requirement into their very own personal bedroom. He managed to make out the contours of a female, sleeping in her nightgown atop her bedsheets.

… _Wait… Is that…?_

As he stood there, the girl in the bed shifted in her sleep, her face becoming briefly illuminated by the moonlight shining in through a window on the wall. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he realized who it was.

_Hermione?_

Walking towards her whilst taking off his Cloak, he stopped just in front of the bed, his mind racing to find answers. Why was she sleeping here, in the Room of Requirement? Didn't she know that just about anyone could enter this place if they knew about the secret? Why wasn't she sleeping with the other girls in Ravenclaw Tower?

He didn't get much time to mull over this, however, as Hermione suddenly woke from her slumber. Drowsy eyes opened to meet his own, and for a moment, the two of them stayed like that, staring at each other in silence as their minds came to a halt. Then, Hermione's tired brain finally finished its boot-up sequence, and she realized that this was, in fact, not actually normal.

Eyes wide in surprise, she flew up into an upright sitting position, her brown curls flying about wildly as she did so.

"Harry?!"

"Ehh… good evening," he responded, coughing lightly to hide his embarrassment. "Sleep well?"

"W-What are you doing here?"

"Well…"

Using one hand to awkwardly scratch the back of his head, he tried to come up with a passable excuse right there on the spot, but sadly enough, his mind refused to cooperate. He knew he could technically just say something obvious like "I came here to practice magic since I couldn't sleep", but for some reason… the thought of that wasn't very appealing to him. He couldn't explain why, but he didn't want to lie to Hermione right now. And that wasn't a moral conundrum he usually struggled with.

"Well…?" she urged impatiently, eyeing him with careful suspicion. She knew he couldn't have known that she would be here, but that still didn't change the fact that she was in a rather… vulnerable state right now, dressed in nothing but a nightgown, which sent her mental defenses into high alert.

After a moment of silence, Harry finally let out a sigh of resignation, completely oblivious to Hermione's internal struggle.

"I'm here to apparate to Diagon Alley," he said, his words causing her brain to short-circuit.

"What?"

"I'm going to Diagon Alley. Or, more specifically, Knockturn Alley."

"Huuuh?"

It was so far removed from what she had expected to hear that Hermione couldn't help but do a double take. Harry was going to **Knockturn Alley**? At this time of day? What in Godric's name was he thinking?

"But… but why?" she asked, furrowing her brows in equal parts confusion and concern.

"Because I need to get my hands on something of very questionable legality, and the only place I could think of that might sell it is Knockturn Alley."

Her confusion quickly turned to anger upon hearing his reply.

"Seriously…? First you beat up Draco like some kind of wild animal, and now you're buying illegal items from Knockturn Alley? What in the world is going on with you?!" she exclaimed, fixing him with a look of pure rage.

"Hermione…" he sighed in return. "I know you have every right to be mad at me right now, but please… just listen to me, okay?"

Narrowing her eyes, she had to mentally restrain herself from barking out a chilling reply. The anger still burned bright in her chest, but after taking a couple of deep breaths, she decided to hear him out. He deserved a chance to defend himself, after all. But his defense had better be damn near flawless.

"I know things have been… weird... between us lately. After everything that happened this summer, and… all the physical intimacy and stuff, I haven't… exactly had an easy time figuring out how I feel about you. You're my best friend, yes. But lately, you've also been… something more. And that honestly scares me a bit," he started, putting on a pained smile that conveyed the conflict he was struggling with internally. "You know how I am. I've never had feelings like these before, nor have I been in any kind of relationship. So I'm not very good at articulating how I feel, or how much I care about someone. And I know that must be very frustrating for you."

When Hermione didn't say anything in response, he took it as a sign to continue speaking.

"But there is one thing I am absolutely certain of, and that is the fact that I **have** feelings for you, Hermione. I don't know exactly what they are or what they mean yet, but I do know that they stretch well beyond friendship, into something... more. And I don't know what to do about that."

Hermione's heart was beating wildly in her chest now, the anger from earlier mixing with several other emotions to produce something intangible within her. She didn't know how to respond to his roundabout confession. She knew she had feelings for him as well, but... with everything that had happened over the past few days, it was all just a confusing mess.

"Now, I've done some stuff that I am not very proud of lately, and that you have every right to despise. But... I'm not perfect, Hermione. For all my rationality and my big talk... In the end, I'm just a guy trying to figure out how to survive an unfair destiny that has been pushed upon him. I didn't ask to be the Boy-Who-Lived, but for some reason, the universe has decided I'm the one who has to bear that burden. And as much as I may hate it, I'm going to make mistakes along the way. But that's exactly why I need you there."

"W... What do you mean by... "need"?" she breathed in response as the emotions within her swelled in size.

"I mean precisely that, Hermione. I need you to be there for me, because I can't fight this battle alone. I need you to lend me a shoulder when I can't stand on my own. To show me the way when I lose sight of the road ahead. Because, no matter what happens, I will always be the Boy-Who-Lived; but without you, I won't be Harry."

She could feel her eyes starting to water at this point, his honesty and unfiltered emotion threatening to overwhelm her brittle heart. In all the time she had known Harry, he had only ever acted like this twice before: once in the Room of Requirement, after she had taken him there following his run-in with a Dementor, and once in her guest bedroom. Both times had ended with her giving in to her feelings for him, and the two of them sharing a special moment together.

The prideful side of her hated the fact that he held such power over her. The power to change her mind by simply being open and honest with her. But, deep inside, she also knew why he was capable of it. It was because she loved him. Both as a best friend, and... as something far more. He held a special place in her heart, a place no other person had ever come close to reaching before. And despite all of his mistakes and character flaws, she knew she couldn't stay mad at him forever. Because he was Harry. Her Harry. And nothing was going to change that.

But that didn't mean she could just forgive him for what he had done to Draco. Sure, the Malfoy heir was an insufferable asshole that needed to be brought down a peg or two. A complete prick that had done something horrible to her in the past, which she thankfully couldn't remember. But the way Harry had beaten him... the feral wildness with which he had exacted his revenge... it still haunted her even now. That image of him laying into a defenseless, borderline unconscious opponent refused to leave her mind, even if he had supposedly done it for her.

"I... I don't..." she started, her words failing her as she struggled to formulate an answer to his confession. Why did it all have to be so goddamn complicated? Why couldn't Harry just be... or at least act, a little bit more normal sometimes?

"I'm not expecting you to give me an answer right here and now, Hermione," he nodded, intrinsically understanding that matters of the heart were not always easily solved. "I know this must be difficult for you, and I apologize for that. All I ask is that you give me a second... no, a **third** chance. Even if I really don't deserve it."

A moment of silence came and went before Hermione gave him any kind of answer. When it came, however, it did not come in the form of a verbal or physical "yes" or "no". Hermione simply locked eyes with him, her watery gaze conveying everything she wanted to say, but couldn't. A small smile flashed across Harry's face as he stared into her chocolate-colored orbs.

"Thank you," he whispered, his emerald-green eyes taking on a softer hue as he spoke. The sight of it caused Hermione's heart to skip a beat.

Breaking eye contact, he tightened his grip around his Invisibility Cloak before moving to put it back on. Hermione watched on in silence as his body gradually disappeared from view, going completely invisible under the covers of the mysterious cloak. Before long, only his head remained, floating in the air rather ominously as he directed his attention back to her once again.

"I have to go now, but... once I get back... I'll tell you everything. Everything I know, so that there'll be no more secrets between us. I hope you'll accept my apology then."

And then he was gone, apparating away with a loud swoosh, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts once again.

_Harry..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The next chapter will be posted later today (November 7th) at 16:00 o'clock EST.


	21. Act 2: Unicorns and Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**Diagon Alley**

The streets of Diagon Alley were all but devoid of life when he materialized in them, appearing from thin air as the apparition went through. He didn't have much time to celebrate this success, however, as the world was currently spinning in front of him, and he was forced to his knees in order to prevent himself from falling over. The urge to throw up came rushing over him, and despite fighting it as best he could, he eventually gave in to its siren call, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the dirty stone tiles.

 _Okay, I officially hate apparating_ , he thought to himself as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve before taking a quick look around him. The usually busy streets of Wizarding Britain's most visited shopping district were completely empty now, which made sense given the fact that all of the stores had closed hours ago. The only living beings to be seen around here now were the occasional wandering cat or dog, out on their respective nightly walks.

Getting up and pulling his Invisibility Cloak tighter around him, Harry made sure he was completely covered by its soft fabric before he started moving deeper into Diagon Alley, heading directly for the one place he normally avoided.

 _Don't want to be seen hanging around these parts this late in the evening, even if it would make for a great scoop. The tabloids would have a field day if they knew I was here now_.

It didn't take him long to arrive at the entrance to Knockturn Alley, the crooked wooden sign greeting him with a silent warning. This was the point of no return. If he walked past this sign, he would officially be in the shady part of Diagon Alley, and no excuse would be good enough to explain his presence there. If Dumbledore ever found out, he would probably have a heart attack.

_Well, I can't turn back now. I need those ingredients for the ritual. And there's no time like the present._

Walking into the dark alley with newfound determination, he started looking for a suitable shop that might sell what he desired. Unlike Diagon Alley, there were still customers hanging around here, even this late into the evening. Every time Harry encountered one, he would push himself up against a wall under the cover of the Cloak, allowing them to pass by undisturbed before continuing on his way. No point in revealing his presence to anyone, after all. He was here for one reason, and one reason only.

_I need to find Unicorn's Blood._

Meandering about the poorly-lit streets of Knockturn Alley, he finally spotted a promising-looking shop that might have what he was searching for. It was called "Alastor's Eccentricities and Rarities" and looked pretty much exactly like one would imagine when imagining a shady business that dealt in illegal items. It was a small building, made entirely out of brick, with iron bars covering its windows. Drawn curtains prevented anyone from looking in, giving the place a rather _"I-probably-shouldn't-go-in-there_ " type of vibe. But going in there was precisely what Harry was planning on doing.

Removing his cloak, he made sure to cast a quick charm to cover up the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead before opening the door and entering its shady interior.

The inside of the shop looked very… cluttered. Huge display-cases made of glass covered practically every inch of the walls and floor, all of them filled to the brim with all sorts of oddities and magical artifacts. Harry spotted shrunken heads, poisonous candles and what looked suspiciously like human fingernails among the items on display, and for a moment, he allowed his eyes to wander, taking in the sights and sounds of this new, unfamiliar world. Reality quickly caught up with him, however, as the scent of cigar-smoke hung thick in the air all around him, filling his nostrils and causing his eyes to water over.

"And who might you be?" a light, silky-smooth voice suddenly said somewhere to his right.

Turning around, Harry was surprised to see what looked like a male noble from the 19th century staring back at him from behind a gothic-looking counter, his eyes milky-white and clouded.

 _He's blind_ , Harry realized, taking a moment to inspect the unknown man in front of him. He appeared to be in his late fifties, with tufts of gray hair poking out from underneath a black top-hat. His attire was reminiscent of that of the stereotypical British gentleman from ye olden days, albeit looking a little more worn and tired than usual. It was obvious that the man had had this particular piece of clothing in his possession for a very long time. A pair of round glasses sat atop a pointed, wrinkled nose, and his blind eyes regarded Harry with an eery sense of clarity.

Due to his age and apparent disability though, he didn't look like he would pose too much of a threat should push come to shove.

"Uhm… Hello there. My name is… Dean, and I'm here to buy something," Harry started, choosing to borrow the name of the Gryffindor Dean Thomas in order to conceal his true identity.

"No it isn't," the old man Harry guessed was Alastor responded, a small grin appearing on his face as he saw the surprised reaction it evoked. "Passive Legilimency, my boy. Never underestimate it."

_Damn, I didn't even feel him invading my mind._

"Well, no point in theatrics then, I guess," Harry answered whilst putting up his Occlumency barriers, eyeing the old gentleman with newfound curiosity. It would appear there was more to this old dog than what first met the eye.

"I'm afraid not. You should have been more wary when you noticed my age. Being an old shopkeeper in this part of town is a surefire sign of strength, especially when combined with blindness."

"Ahh… You are correct, it was stupid of me to assume you wouldn't be a threat," Harry answered, inwardly reprimanding himself for being so careless. Of course the old man was dangerous. You needed strength to survive here in Knockturn Alley, after all, and the fact that this man had seemingly managed to grow old here spoke volumes of his ability.

Harry would have to be more mindful of such things in the future.

"Now then; I assume you are here for a reason, Mr. Potter?" Alastor asked, his usage of Harry's name making him more than a little nervous. The old shopkeeper must have noticed his reaction because he immediately moved to dissuade him of his fears. "You do not have to fear being called out by me: your visit here is entirely **your** business, and I take my clients' privacy quite seriously."

"Oh… thank you," Harry replied, dipping his head in gratitude. It was good to know that he didn't have to fear being reported to the Ministry or anything. Then again, he supposed it only made sense for Alastor to keep his visit here a secret, seeing as he probably didn't want to attract any attention to himself either. He was hardly running a… legitimate business, after all.

"So, what are you looking for on this beautiful evening?"

"I'm… here to buy some Unicorn's Blood," Harry answered, his face contorting ever so slightly at the mention of the illegal item.

"Ahh… A quite popular, if somewhat controversial purchase. If anything, I wouldn't recommend drinking it," the old man nodded, seemingly unfazed by Harry's blatant confession. "Very pricey though, due to its status as a Non-Tradeable Item and the curse it places on those who gather it. Slaying a Unicorn for its blood is one of the worst crimes a man can commit, and anyone who does it will suffer a cursed life for the remainder of their days."

"I know. I've had a run-in with it before, a couple of years ago," Harry responded, thinking back to his First Year at Hogwarts and his showdown with his DADA teacher, Quirinus Quirrell. That man had been forced to drink Unicorn's Blood in order to sustain the body he shared with Lord Voldemort, and it hadn't looked pretty.

"Well then. How much of it do you require?" Alastor continued, his gaze landing on a box he kept beneath the counter as he spoke.

"Not much. Just enough to coat a dagger."

That, however, dragged his attention back to Harry again.

"Coat a dagger you say? … Planning to use the Unicorn's Blood in rituals, mayhaps?"

"T-That's not…" Harry started, only to be interrupted by the old man midway through his sentence.

"Those would have to be some Dark rituals… Very Dark indeed. Not that I really believe in such things. In my opinion, there is no such thing as "Light" or "Dark" magic, only power and the intent that guides it. Magic itself does not take sides."

Harry promptly closed his mouth at that, his mind mulling over what the old man had just said.

_Only the intent that guides it, huh…_

"Far be it from me to deny you anything, though. What kind of salesman would I be if I didn't even let my customers choose for themselves?"

"Thank you," Harry responded, not even really sure why he was thanking him. For some reason, the more he spoke with this man, the more respect he felt he ought to show him. This was clearly a wizard with a lot of knowledge about the world, and if there was one thing Harry respected, it was the power of knowledge.

"Pleasure's all mine. Well then, I suppose… this much… ought to be enough."

Dipping below the counter for just a moment, the old man returned with a single vial of Unicorn's Blood. The substance was silver in color and had a rather thick consistency.

"How much for that then?" Harry asked, preparing himself for the worst.

"For this… I'd say around 900 Galleons," the old man nodded, causing Harry to let out a small gasp of surprise. He had been expecting the price to be ridiculously high, but 900 Galleons?!

_That's… that's almost 90 times as much as my most expensive textbook. The Bag of Unlimited Holding I got for Hermione last Christmas was only around 150…_

"W-Well then… Do you take checks?" he asked, pulling out a barely-used checkbook that the goblins of Gringotts had given to him after he had opened his second, personal account all those years ago.

"Yes I do," Alastor answered, smiling politely as Harry wrote the number "900" on the check, followed by his signature. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the sole heir to the Potter family would have the means to pay for something so expensive."

"Yeah, well… if there's one thing I have a lot of, it's money," Harry responded sheepishly, handing the old man the check. "Not that I really need it."

"One should not spend one's life searching for materialistic things like wealth and money. True power lies in knowledge and influence."

 _Quite ironic coming from someone who spends his life selling things to people_ , Harry absentmindedly thought to himself as he accepted the vial of Unicorn's Blood from the now thoroughly satisfied shopkeeper.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Alastor nodded, folding his hands on the counter. "Please, do come again sometime. I'm quite intrigued by your existence, Boy-Who-Lived, and am looking forward to seeing what you'll make of your life."

"Thank you. Perhaps we shall see each other again someday," Harry answered with a timid smile, pocketing the vial and heading out of the shop into the cold night.

_What a weird man…_

Closing the door behind him with a thud, he took a moment to breathe in some of the clear air, the oxygen considerably more comfortable for his lungs than the cigar-heavy smoke that had permeated the shop.

He wasn't allowed to bask in the moment for long, however, as a deep, grizzly voice suddenly cut through the silence, causing Harry's heart to jump in his chest.

"Ay, what's this? A kid like you comin' out of old man Alastor's shop this late in the evenin'?"

_Shit, I forgot to put on the Invisibility Cloak._

Turning to his left, Harry spotted the owner of the voice walking towards him at a brisk pace, his enormous body shrouded by a cloak easily twice as big as Harry's own. The hood had been pulled up over his head, obstructing his face from view. It was only when he came closer that Harry finally managed to get a good look at him.

A square head sat atop a hulking frame that measured well over 2 meters tall. Massive muscles bulged underneath his clothes, giving off a menacing aura as he regarded Harry with intense blue eyes. Short, brown hair peeked out from underneath the hood, its color vaguely reminiscent of Hermione's. Everything about him radiated power, and physical strength. Needless to say, Harry instinctively knew that fighting this person would not end favorably for him.

"I 'ave to say, you got real unlucky mate, bumping into me here," the brute continued, a bone-chilling smile appearing on his face as he spoke.

"... And why is that?" Harry asked, tightening his grip on the cloak he had in his hand.

"Because I'm gonna have to ask you real politely to hand over whatever it was you bought in there. Times are tough, you see. It ain't easy being a workin' man around these parts, especially not with the Ministry out searching for that wanted mass-murderer in full force. They spend a lot of time questioning people and such around here these days, making life... difficult... for me. So I'm afraid I need all the Galleons I can get!"

Cracking his knuckles loudly, the unknown assailant took yet another menacing step towards Harry, who held his ground. So, this meathead had decided to rob him, then, Well, no doubt he would be able to beat Harry in a physical fight. Despite his new workout routine, Harry knew he would be no match for a giant of this guy's size. His meager muscles amounted to little in a situation like this.

But, luckily enough for him, this was never going to evolve into a fistfight. Because Harry had a massive advantage that this guy had yet to find out about.

 _I still have the Invisibility Cloak_.

Shooting the enormous man a sly grin, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at the realization that he still had the upper hand, despite the difference in strength and experience.

"You know what? ... I don't think I will," he started, keeping his voice perfectly monotone as he spoke.

"What was that?!"

"I'm not going to be giving you much of anything at all, I'm afraid. So I'd recommend getting lost before you waste more of your time here. This isn't going to end how you expect it to."

His assailant seemed to take this quite personally, as a vein of anger appeared on his forehead, growing in tandem with his fury.

"You sure talk big game for someone so small," he responded, his mouth pulled upwards into a wicked grin.

"Well, I might be small, but I have the advantage."

"Oh yeah? And in what way would that be?"

"In this way," Harry retorted drily, wrapping his cloak around him and turning invisible in seconds.

"WHAT?!"

The sound of his assailant's confusion was like music to Harry's ears, and he couldn't stop a slight smile from forming on his face as he casually waltzed right past the giant man under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak.

"Where did you go, you little pipsqueak?! I won't let you get away!"

_Of course you will. You can't see me, after all._

Walking away from the would-be robber, Harry slipped his wand into his hand as he strode, silently casting the Quietening charm that he and Hermione had practiced in the Room of Requirement.

 _And now... you can't hear me either_.

His victory all but assured at this point, Harry allowed himself to relax.

"Homenum Revelio!"

The incantation rang out loud and clear into the night as the man behind him cast the charm.

 _Oh shit_.

Turning around as fast as he could, Harry noticed his assailant staring right at him, his blue eyes shining with fury and hostility. Homenum Revelio, also known as the Human-Presence-Revealing Spell, allowed its caster to "sense" the presence of other humans in the immediate vicinity. Because of this, it was a natural counter to invisibility.

"Not good," Harry breathed as the hulking man suddenly broke out into a sprint, heading straight for him. "Guess I better disappear."

Seeing the world pull back around him, Harry apparated to the Room of Requirement just as the man was about to tackle him. The suddenness of the apparition caused Harry to trip and fall as soon as he arrived, his body flying straight into the bed that was currently occupied by Hermione, his unforeseen arrival causing her to let out a shriek of surprise.

"Harry!?"

"Ughh..."

Pushing himself up from the soft mattress, he just about managed to squeak out a reply, the nausea threatening to overwhelm him at any second. "I'm baaack..."

The look of complete and utter confusion she sent him was nothing short of priceless.

* * *

After allowing the initial wave of nausea to pass, Harry sat down with Hermione right there on the bed and told her absolutely everything he had kept from her. It took a long time, but he had promised her that once he returned from Knockturn Alley, he would tell her all of his secrets. And so he shared with her all of the details regarding the Obscurus, his meeting with his godfather and the Auror from the DMLE, his suspicions surrounding Dumbledore, the book on Dark rituals he was now intending to take use of and everything in-between. Hermione listened with an unreadable expression on her face, taking it all in without interrupting even once.

Despite his natural hesitance to trust other people, Harry had to admit that it felt indescribably good to finally get it all off his chest. To share all the things he had been worrying about with someone else, someone he cared about and wanted to protect.

He was tired of lying to Hermione. He was tired of keeping her in the dark. He wanted her to know everything there was to know, and now... she did.

Finishing his explanations, Harry waited in silence as Hermione processed everything he had just told her. He didn't really care how long he had to wait: she could take as much time as she needed. All he wanted to know now was what she thought about it. In truth, a small part of him was afraid that she would reject him. He wouldn't blame her if she did, of course; being friends with the Boy-Who-Lived was a health-and-safety hazard at the best of times. And being romantically involved with him... well, that was even worse. But he desperately hoped she wouldn't choose that option. He wanted Hermione in his life, as he believed he had made very clear to her earlier that same evening.

It took a while, but after an eternity of uncertainty and waiting, Hermione finally opened her mouth to speak.

"That was... a lot..." she started, taking a deep breath to compose herself. "To be honest... I still don't know what to think of it all yet. But I'm glad you've decided to be honest with me at least."

"..."

Harry remained silent. He had said everything he wanted to say: it was up to Hermione to decide now.

"I can see now that there has been more at play here than I realized. You've been dealing with things far beyond anything I imagined, and... as wrong as it was of you to keep it hidden... it must've been difficult for you."

She took a moment to look at him before she continued, her eyes locking onto his with surprising intensity.

"Sirius Black is apparently innocent, and was sent to Azkaban without a trial. Your Obscurus is still alive, and is influencing your thought process from the inside. Dumbledore appears to have a hidden agenda of his own, one that involves you and this idea of the Greater Good. You have received a book containing highly questionable rituals from an unknown individual, rituals which you now intend on undertaking."

Harry nodded slowly in response, running through the list in his head. That did sum up most of it, yes.

"... In some way... I can understand why you chose to keep most of this to yourself. If everything is as you say it is, then there is obviously a larger game afoot here. Something way beyond our comprehension, a game that may very well decide the future of the British wizarding world. And as the Boy-Who-Lived, you will be forced to participate."

Harry couldn't deny it. It was unfair, so unfair in fact that it caused the blood in his veins to boil with anger, but it was the truth. As Voldemort's opposite, he had been destined since birth to fight the Dark Lord. But he was determined to do it on his own terms.

"Now, despite my... behavior... these past few days, I did mean what I said this summer. I want to help you. I want to stand with you. But... in order for me to do that, I need you to do something for me in return."

He braced himself for the request he knew was coming.

"From this point on, there'll be no more lies, Harry. No more half-truths or convenient excuses. I want to hear it all. If something good happens, I want to know about it. If something bad happens, I want to know about it. If something so incredibly horrible you can barely think about it happens, **I want to know about it**. Because I can't stand with you if you aren't going to treat me as an equal."

Letting out a shaky breath, he nodded yet again to show her that he accepted her proposition. Hermione was his best friend, and his equal. It was about time he started treating her as such.

"If you can promise me that, then... I'll help you. I'll be on your side. Not Dumbledore's or the Ministry's side, **your** side. And I promise I won't react as unfairly or push you away like I did this time in the future. As long as you don't keep anything from me ever again."

Her expression had turned surprisingly soft now, her chocolate-colored eyes conveying the depths of her loyalty to him. The thought of trusting her one-hundred percent still scared him a little, but from now on... he was willing to try. She deserved as much from him.

"Regarding the Draco incident... you told me you have been summoned to the Wizengamot to stand trial for what you did. Now, I have mixed feelings about that... but I think you should accept whatever punishment they decide to give you. They need to think that you regret your actions... even if you really don't."

"... If that's what you think is best, then I'll do it," Harry answered, nodding in agreement. His upcoming trial in the Wizengamot really wasn't his biggest concern at the moment. It easily paled in comparison to the Obscurus and imminent threat of death in the form of Lord Voldemort. In addition, he doubted they would give him too harsh a punishment. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, after all, and Dumbledore was the Chief Warlock.

"Good. And, finally... when it comes to the... confession... you came with earlier..."

"Y-Yeah?"

A small blush crept its way up Hermione's neck as she prepared to give her reply.

"I... I want you to... know..." she started, the bravado and certainty from earlier all but gone from her voice.

"Know what...?" Harry asked, subconsciously leaning closer to her.

"I want you to know that... I feel... the same way."

"O-Oh..."

Both of them were blushing violently now, the atmosphere in the room shifting from serious to embarrassed in seconds. Harry didn't really know **why** it felt so embarrassing, but he suspected it had something to do with the fact that neither of them had ever confessed their feelings to someone before.

"A-And... if you're okay with it... then... I'd like for you to... k-kiss me," she finished, trying to sound resolute but failing dramatically. It was obvious she was feeling very uncomfortable, but... seeing her so vulnerable did strange things to Harry's heart. A strong desire to hold her welled up in his core, and he found himself shifting his body ever so closer to hers.

"I think... I'd quite like that," he responded, stopping just a couple of inches from her face. He could see the yearning in her eyes clearly now, and it took every last ounce of his willpower not to give in and abandon reason completely.

"Just know that... once you do this... there's no going back," she whispered, opening her mouth slightly to let out a shaky breath. "... Once you kiss me... you'll be **mine**. And I'll be yours."

"That... doesn't sound too bad to me."

There was a moment of silence as they regarded one another with fragile uncertainty. And then, his lips were on hers. It was not a rough or lust-driven kiss, like the one they had shared in Hermione's guest bedroom. This one was light, delicate and filled with raw emotion. A kiss of affection, one that invaded all of his senses and filled his mind with nothing but her. A kiss he would remember for the rest of his life.

In that moment, Harry realized that he loved Hermione Granger. And the thought of that caused his heart to well up with happiness.

Once they finally broke apart, a radiant smile had formed on Hermione's face.

"I don't think I've ever told you this, but... you're a great kisser."

Her comment caused him to chuckle slightly, his hands coming to rest on her hips.

"Why, thank you. You're not half-bad yourself."

Her smile widening, she leaned forwards to rest her head against his shoulder, her arms stretching around his back to pull him closer to her.

"Can we stay like this for a while?" she breathed, closing her tired eyes.

There was nothing Harry wanted more.

"... Yeah, we can."

That night, he slept better than he had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, did that dissuade you of your fears? I said this story was going to be Harry/Hermione, and as you can see, I fully intend on following through on that. Now, I know that the two of them have gone through kind of a rough patch lately, but romance is very rarely a straight line. I'm actually surprised at the amount of people who got angry at Hermione for reacting so strongly to Harry's violent outburst. Like, how do you think YOU would've reacted in real life if you saw your significant other go all Mortal Kombat on someone else? If you saw them viciously and maliciously beating up a borderline unconscious person with glee?
> 
> Most likely, you would be horribly shocked, and quite possibly furious. You definitely wouldn't just be like "oh yeah that's cool" and then go about your day. And sure, Harry DID have a reason to do what he did, but you have to keep in mind that Hermione can't actually remember what Draco did to her, so in her eyes, Harry is the one who is being the most extreme (even if he is being influenced by the Obscurus).
> 
> Either way, I hope this chapter made up for any disappointment you might've been feeling.
> 
> This chapter also marks the end of my pre-written stuff, so from now on, the posting rate of this story will drastically slow as it gets updated in tandem with the version up on FFnet. So things will be slower from now on.


	22. Act 2: An Enticing Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.
> 
> WARNING: There is some wildly NSFW content present in this chapter. Feel free to skip it if you don't like reading stuff like that, I have sectioned it off to make it easy to avoid.

**Room of Requirement**

It was the sound of birds chirping that finally pulled Harry from his sleep, his mind jostled awake by the never-ending melody of birdsong that refused to die down. Opening his eyelids, he took a moment to allow his brain to finish its boot-up sequence before he turned his head, taking in his new surroundings. Sunlight streamed in through a window on the wall, showering the room he was in with golden light that burned against his sensitive eyes.

For a moment, he was confused. This certainly didn't look like the Ravenclaw dormitories? But then, the events of last night came rushing back to him, and he felt his face flush a violent shade of crimson. This didn't look like Ravenclaw Tower because it **wasn't** Ravenclaw Tower. It was the Room of Requirement, where he and Hermione had fallen asleep together after their little conversation some hours prior.

He couldn't quite stop the smile from spreading on his face as he thought about the events of the previous night. He had known Hermione for over 3 years now, and in all that time, he had never seen her quite as vulnerable as she had been yesterday. Her usual, teacher-esque demeanor had been all but gone, replaced by teenage anxiety and uncertainty over the strange emotions she had been experiencing.

Shaking his head in amusement, he made to get up from the bed, before realizing that there was an unfamiliar weight resting on his chest, preventing him from moving. Shifting around to see what the weight could be, his eyes were momentarily filled with the color brown, and it took him a moment to process what was happening before his brain finally caught up with it all.

What he was seeing was Hermione's hair. What he was feeling was the weight of her head. She was using his chest as a makeshift pillow.

For a moment, Harry struggled with this newfound discovery. This type of situation was so new, so foreign to him that he didn't really know how he was supposed to react. Was he supposed to push her away? Wake her up? Go back to sleep? Apparate away?

Ultimately though, the best course of action seemed to be… well, to do absolutely nothing. It had been made very clear to him last night that he and Hermione were in a proper relationship now, and as far as he knew, sleeping together in the same bed like this was a normal thing for couples to do. It was, in other words, something he figured he would have to get used to, and not something he should be attempting to avoid or distance himself from.

In truth though, it also felt strangely… good… to be with her like this. The feeling of her slender body so close to his was surprisingly nice, and so was the way her breath would tickle his skin every time her chest rose and fell… In addition, he could also feel her breasts push up against his side, which he had to admit was rather arousing.

 _Well, if nothing else… it definitely beats waking up alone_ , he thought to himself as he noticed that his right arm had been trapped underneath her neck, and was currently resting against her backside. Deciding to take advantage of this, he started lovingly stroking his right hand up and down her back, eliciting slight shivers from Hermione.

"Mmmm…" she hummed softly in response, a cute smile forming on her face as her body reacted to his touch.

_Okay, now **that** …is ridiculously adorable._

Determined to enjoy the moment for as long as possible, Harry continued his loving caress, reveling in the feeling of a morning like this with Hermione. It would be hard to go back to sleeping on his own in the Ravenclaw dormitories now that he knew how bewitching it was to wake up with her like this.

The only problem here, of course, was that she was wearing nothing but a nightgown, which was mildly provoking in more ways than one. But Harry wasn't overly concerned about this. He was fairly certain he could brush off the conspicuous erection it had caused as nothing more than regular morning wood after all, should Hermione be unfortunate enough to notice it.

A couple of minutes later, she finally woke from her slumber, and Harry had the distinct pleasure of watching her go through the exact same motions as he had. Confusion at waking up in the Room of Requirement, enlightenment as she remembered the events of last night, and then finally embarrassment at the realization of her current situation.

"Good morning," Harry chuckled, finding her bashfulness more than a little amusing. Being like this was unusual for the both of them, but Harry found that he was quickly growing to like it.

"G-Good morning," she replied, her head tilting upwards so she could look at him.

_Godric, she's so cute…_

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah… Really well, actually."

The embarrassment from earlier was starting to disappear now, as the expression on her face turned surprisingly soft. "You're a great substitute for my pillow."

"Aww, thanks," Harry smiled back, wrapping his right arm tighter around her and pulling her even closer to him. Judging by the way a shy smile formed on her face, it was clear that she approved. "I quite enjoy being your pillow."

"Good, because I wasn't planning on stopping," she smirked, shifting around to get into a more comfortable position with her head still on his chest.

"You know… I don't think I'm going to be able to go back to sleeping in the Ravenclaw dormitories now that I know how nice it is to wake up with you."

A small blush erupted across her cheeks at his words, but she nodded in agreement all the same.

"Yeah, I haven't slept so well in weeks. It certainly beats being woken up by Luna and her incessant rambling about Nargles."

"She talks about Nargles first thing in the morning?" Harry laughed, somehow not finding that particularly hard to believe.

"Oh yes, all the time. I've tried telling her time and time again that the existence of Nargles has never actually been documented or confirmed by anyone other than her father, but I don't think she believes me."

"That's not very surprising. To Luna, her father is probably a more reliable source of information than any textbook could ever be."

They shared a smile at that, before a moment of silence passed between them. Suddenly, Harry was assaulted by an incredibly strong urge to kiss Hermione. The way her messy brown hair fell in her face and her chocolate-colored eyes stared into his own caused waves of longing to rush through his body, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but her. She must've noticed his sudden desire, as she carefully bit down on her lower lip in a maddeningly arousing way that completely shattered every bit of self-control he had left.

Bending forwards, he captured her lips with his own, stifling a groan as her tongue suddenly came forwards to meet his own. It would appear Hermione was also feeling rather frisky this morning, as her arms came up to wrap themselves around his neck as their kissing intensified.

* * *

**A/N: NSFW content starts here.**

Before long, she had repositioned herself to sit atop him, her legs on either side of his waist as she crashed her lips against his own, her breathing growing increasingly more ragged and uneven as her desire grew. Seeing her so wild and unhinged was insanely arousing to Harry, whose cock was now rock-hard and pressing against her backside in desperate longing.

His hands, which were currently resting on her hips, slowly came down to caress her bum before moving on to the side, slipping underneath the fabric of her underwear.

Harry's heart was beating wildly in his chest now, every nerve ending in his body on fire with lust and arousal as his hands slowly inched towards the front of her waist, to the spot he knew she was most sensitive.

Hermione was making absolutely no effort to stop him, letting out moans that vibrated against his lips as her hands did some exploring of their own, trailing dangerously low across his stomach.

Taking this as consent, Harry allowed his hands to continue drifting, his fingertips finally gliding across her swollen lips, causing her to squirm slightly in his lap.

"Careful, Harry… that place… is very sensitive," she breathed as she started planting wet kisses along his neck and jaw, her hair tickling the side of his face.

Nodding in response, he let a single finger slide up and down the length of her labia before he gently slipped it in-between her folds, surprised at the wetness that awaited him there. It would appear Hermione was equally as turned-on as he was, as his finger was coated with her desire in seconds.

Letting out a soft moan, she pressed her hips against him, causing his finger to go even deeper inside of her.

"God, Hermione…" Harry groaned, his free hand coming up to pull her away from his neck and back up to his face so he could kiss her.

"Keep going…" she whispered against his lips as he slowly started sliding his finger in and out of her, his other hand caressing the side of her face. "Ahh… try… doing it with two... instead of one…"

Heeding her request, he gracefully slipped a second finger inside of her as well, eliciting a loud moan that caused his cock to twitch violently in his boxers.

"Oh… yes… just like that…" she breathed, pressing her hips into his hand. "Don't stop… doing that…"

Sensing that he was on to something, Harry gradually started upping the speed at which he entered her, Hermione's moans coming quicker with each pump of his wrist.

"Ahh, my god… that feels… so good…" she groaned with her eyes closed and her mouth slightly agape. "Please... rub… my clit, with your thumb, as well…"

Harry was momentarily confused by this for a second, before he remembered that the clit was the tiny nub at the top of the vagina. Stretching out his thumb, he carefully dragged it across the little strip of flesh, making sure to apply just the right amount of pressure so that it wouldn't be uncomfortable.

"Oh gods, Harry…" Hermione mewled in response, bucking her hips against him with wild abandon. "Please… don't stop…"

It felt a little awkward in the beginning, to have his thumb stimulating her clit whilst his fore- and middle finger slid in and out of her, but he eventually got the hang of it, his wrist complaining as he continued to pleasure her. It was an uncomfortable angle to work with, but there was no way in hell he was going to stop now. He wanted to see her unravel in front of him, and would easily put up with the pain for as long as he had to.

"Ahh… Ahh…"

Hermione's cries were growing louder and louder now, her voice melting with desire as he brought her closer and closer to climax. Her hands had long since stopped their own exploration of his body, as her entire being focused solely on the sensation of Harry's fingers stimulating her both on the inside and the outside.

"Oh… god… Harry… I'm… I'm close…"

"Yes… Cum for me, Hermione…" he growled, his voice laced with primal yearning as he leaned forwards to plant wet kisses along her neck and upped the intensity of his stroking yet again. "I want to feel you cum for me."

Her entire body was twitching violently now, as she desperately rocked her swollen flesh against his hand in search of her release.

"Ahh… I'm… oh… going to c-cum…!"

And then, finally, she did. Ceasing all movement, she threw her head back and breathed out loudly, her entire body convulsing and shaking in the throes of her orgasm. Inside, Harry felt her walls clamp down around his fingers once, twice, and then thrice before stopping, each contraction accompanied by a shiver of pleasure that ran through her body. He didn't take his eyes off her face once as she climaxed, his mind utterly mesmerized by what he was doing to her.

A couple of seconds later, he felt her muscles relax as she slowly came down from her high and leaned forwards to support her weight against his body.

"Haah… that was… amazing," she breathed, shuddering slightly as he removed his fingers from her panties. They came away sticky and wet with her juices. "I really should masturbate more often…"

"Well, you got me now, and I'm more than happy to be of assistance" Harry grinned, making a show of placing one of the fingers that had been inside of her into his mouth, tasting her as he gently sucked on it. It was a different, yet far from unpleasant taste.

"Hey, don't just do something like that so suddenly… you're making me embarrassed…" Hermione blushed, her already flushed cheeks turning an even darker shade of crimson.

"There's no need for you to feel anything other than satisfaction," Harry reassured her, using a hand to brush a couple of stray locks of hair out of her face. "That was one of the hottest things I have ever seen, Hermione. I mean, just see for yourself."

He gestured towards his crotch, where his cock was currently trying its best to escape from within the confines of his underwear. He was so hard now that he could feel the skin straining under the weight of his desire, his entire body practically begging for release.

"Oh wow…" she responded, her eyes filled with genuine curiosity as she jumped off his lap in order to better inspect his concealed manhood. "I've never seen one of these in person before… Mind if I… take a look?"

"By all means, go ahead," he chuckled, a faint blush erupting across his cheeks at the newfound attention. Despite everything that had just happened, he still felt a pang of embarrassment well up in his core at the idea of exposing himself to Hermione.

He didn't get to worry over this for long, however, as she had already grabbed the hem of his boxers and pulled them down in one swift motion. His cock was freed from its cloth prison, standing erect in front of her curious eyes. Harry couldn't help but send a quick "thank you" to the previous version of himself from two days ago who had had the incredible foresight to do some manscaping.

"Ohh… it's… it's so big…" Hermione muttered to herself, poking the shaft gently with one finger which caused Harry to snort.

"Ehrm… it's nothing special, just slightly above average in terms of length. It just looks big to you because it's the only penis you've seen in person," Harry explained, inwardly wondering just why he was downplaying himself like this to Hermione. His words were true, his dick really wasn't all that special, but if she found it big, why was he sitting here trying to convince her otherwise?

"Hmm… I still think it's quite impressive," she responded after a moment of thought. "And I have to wonder… just how in the world it's going to fit… inside…"

"Uhh… fit inside what, exactly?" Harry asked, his heart doing cartwheels in his chest.

"Ahh, umm… nothing! Nothing at all!" she retorted, shaking her head in embarrassment as she realized the implications of her words. Having sex seemed like quite a big step up from what they were currently doing, and not one she was ready to take right now.

"Oh, okay…"

"Either way… what am I supposed to do with his thing?" she inquired, lowering her head to get a closer look at his member. "Do I just… grab it?"

"Well, that would be a good start…" Harry answered, the blush from earlier returning to his cheeks in full force. "You can't really go too wrong with this, just… do what comes naturally to you, and don't try to run away with it or anything."

Hermione apparently didn't find that last remark quite as funny as he had hoped, as she took a firm grip around the length of his penis and squeezed down with some force.

"Ahh! Ahhh! Hey, stop it! I'm sorry, it was a bad joke!"

Smiling ruefully, she loosened her grip again, before starting to gently stroke her hand up and down his shaft. The sensation was wildly different from what he was used to; it didn't feel quite as good as doing it himself, as her technique and skill was still that of a novice, but the fact that it was **Hermione** stroking him off more than made up for it.

_Thank god Voldemort's Killing Curse rebounded… I'm so happy I've managed to survive long enough to experience this…_

Letting out a grunt of pleasure, he bucked his hips into her touch, upping the speed with which she was rubbing him. His member twitched lightly in her hand as he did so, shivering in anticipation. A small amount of precum leaked from his tip and streaked down the front of his cock to land on her skin, something she seemed to find incredibly fascinating.

But then, just as Harry was about to ask her to up the intensity once again, he heard a sound that would forever haunt him in his nightmares from that day forwards: the sound of the great iron doors opening.

**A/N: NSFW content ends here.**

* * *

Shooting a frenzied look towards the entrance to the Room of Requirement, he felt his blood freeze to ice in his veins as he saw the door handle on one of the doors being pushed downwards, signaling that someone was about to enter.

In their lust-induced frenzy, they had completely forgotten about one simple fact: the Room of Requirement was accessible to anyone who knew about its secret. Meaning that, in theory, they could be interrupted at any given moment.

_YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME._

Grabbing ahold of Hermione's shoulders, he pushed her down into the bed next to him, her hand moving away from his nether regions as he pulled the duvet over them so that only their upper bodies were visible.

A couple of seconds later, Luna Lovegood came strolling into the room, looking distinctly pleased with herself.

"Uhh… Good morning, Luna," Harry started, trying his best to prevent the irritation he felt at being interrupted from entering his voice.

"Good morning, Harry. Sleep well?" the blonde girl asked, a dreamy smile plastered on her face as her silver eyes met his.

"Y-Yes, surprisingly so, actually."

"That's good to hear. Oh, and morning to you as well, Hermione."

"G-Good morning," the now thoroughly embarrassed witch responded, a fierce blush coloring her cheeks deep crimson as she shifted in the bed to meet the eyes of her Housemate.

"I see the two of you are back to being friends again," Luna continued, nodding to herself as she spoke. "Or more than friends, actually. That's nice. It was about time you made it official."

Harry had to mentally restrain himself from facepalming. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now, especially not when he was in such an embarrassing position and sporting the boner from hell.

"Now, I know it must be nice to sleep in together, but I would recommend getting up soon. It's almost lunchtime, after all," she stated, drawing a short gasp from Hermione.

"Lunch?! Does that mean… we missed some of our classes?!"

"Yes, you did. You missed History of Magic with Binns and Charms with Professor Flitwick."

"HARRY, WE NEED TO GET UP RIGHT NOW!" Hermione damn near shouted, flying to her feet in seconds, completely forgetting about what they had been doing just moments earlier.

"Oh dear Godric, have mercy," Harry cried silently to himself, mourning the loss of his own release. Hermione must've noticed the despondent look on his face, as she walked over to his side of the bed and leaned close, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

"I'm sorry… It's unfair that I was the only one who got to feel good, so I promise I'll make it up to you later," she whispered in his ear, before planting a quick kiss on his cheek, seemingly not caring about the fact that Luna was standing just a couple of meters away from them.

Hermione's proposal wouldn't help him alleviate the pressure he was currently suffering from, but it was nice to know she felt guilty enough about it to at least offer him some kind of consolation prize. Needless to say, Harry would be looking forward to this hypothetical "later".

"Alright, let's head to the Great Hall then," he sighed, pushing away the duvet once his erection finally died down. Missing a couple of classes, despite Hermione's exaggerated reaction, wasn't too big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. The only punishment was likely to be a subtraction of House Points, which Harry couldn't have given less of a shit about. The Hogwarts House Cup genuinely didn't matter whatsoever, after all, so only First and Second Years really cared about it.

"You should probably head there on your own before us, Luna," Hermione added with a sad smile. "Unless you want to be seen hanging around Hogwarts Most Hated."

"Is that actually what people are calling me now?" Harry asked with a hint of amusement. "Hogwarts Most Hated?"

"Well, it's a work-in-progress title, but last I checked, yes," Hermione nodded.

"… Damn. This thing with Malfoy has really ruined my reputation, huh."

"You say that like there was anything left to ruin in the first place."

"Touché."

"Okay, I'll be going then," Luna interjected, the dreamy expression on her face turning sad for just a moment before returning to normal. "We can still meet up here in the Room of Requirement later tonight, if you want to."

"Sounds good to me," Harry shrugged, shifting to look at Hermione after Luna had walked out of the door. "Shall we head out as well, then?"

"Yes," she responded, but not before transfiguring her nightgown into normal school robes and smoothing out her hair. "You should probably put on some clothes as well, Harry. I don't think showing up in the Great Hall in your underwear would do much to help with your reputation."

He had to admit she had a point there.

* * *

** Beauxbatons Academy of Magic **

Fleur Delacour let out a long sigh of exhaustion as she closed the book in front of her, her tired eyes shifting to stare at the large pile on her right which she had yet to even start on. Preparing for the Triwizard Tournament was a taxing affair, especially when done in combination with her usual schoolwork. The chosen Triwizard Champion from Beauxbatons would be excused from all classes once the tournament actually started, but for now, that position stood vacant.

_If everything goes according to plan, however, I won't have to think about classes at all come late October, as long as I make sure that I'm chosen as the Champion._

The version of herself she showed to the world, the one who was going to be entering her name into the Goblet of Fire, was one that was not afraid to acknowledge her own abilities and magical prowess. That version knew she had a real chance at becoming the Champion, and took pride in that superiority and ignored the jealous whisperings of those she considered beneath her.

When Fleur had been branded an outsider by the others at school, that ice-cold persona had been the only way to deal with their mocking stares and remarks. She had been forced to pretend to be above it all, pretend that their words could not hurt her, and as a direct result of this, the "Ice Queen" had been born.

The real version of Fleur, however, the one she reserved for her family members, was not nearly as perfect or invulnerable. That version cared about every jealous whisper, every false rumor and every snide remark that was thrown her way. It annoyed her that she could be so weak as to care about what others thought of her, but there was nothing she could do about it. Her mind craved affection and friendship, and no matter what she did to distract herself from this, those desires always came back to haunt her.

Perhaps, in another universe, there existed a version of her that had both of those things. A version that wasn't shunned by the other girls, a version that didn't have to pretend to be something she wasn't. But if it did, that was not her current reality.

 _Well, no point in dwelling on such far-fetched_ _dreams_ , she thought to herself as she grabbed the next book from her stack, flipping it open to look at the table of contents. _I can't change the world I was born into, so I'll just have to make the best of my situation_.

A small part of her absentmindedly wondered if the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, had to deal with similar issues. If he secretly hated the fame and recognition, and only wanted to be acknowledged as the person he was and not as the savior of the Wizarding World.

_How ironic that would've been..._

Despite what she had told Gabrielle in the Dining Chamber just a couple of days prior, she **was** secretly looking forward to meeting him. As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted to see how he had turned out, growing up with such a huge achievement tied to his name.

_Who knows... maybe... just maybe... he'll be like me._

The thought of it brought a smile to her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize if this chapter came off as slightly more filler-y than normal, it kinda just turned out that way after I wrote that ridiculously long smut scene with Harry and Hermione in the Room of Requirement. I hope you enjoyed it regardless, even if nothing substantial really happened.


	23. Act 2: New Arrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**Hagrid's Hut**

Harry had always loved the small wooden cabin Hagrid called his home. Tucked away in the corner of the school grounds, the quaint building stood on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, a risky place for anyone to live, but Harry knew Hagrid didn't mind. The half-giant was the Gamekeeper at Hogwarts for a reason, after all. He loved all manner of creatures, be it spiders, griffins or dragons, and possessed tremendous amounts of self-taught knowledge about how to deal with each and every one of them. It only made sense then, that the man would feel most at home close to the creatures he so deeply cared about.

There really wasn't a person in the world Harry thought more fit for the job of Gamekeeper than Hagrid.

The inside of the shack Hagrid called his home was also a very fitting representation of the man's nature. The entire thing consisted of a single, wood-paneled room that had hams and pheasants hanging loosely from the ceiling. Wooden shelves littered the walls, all of them filled to the brim with glass jars containing all sorts of ingredients and curious-looking items. At the back stood an old fireplace where, most of the time, one could see a copper kettle hanging over the flames, boiling water to be used in tea or other meals. Over in the corner was Hagrid's bed, its massive wooden frame easily taking up a quarter of the entire living space. A single table with four chairs was placed next to it, which was where Harry and Hermione were currently seated.

It was a very modest home, one bereft of any unnecessary splendor or luxury, and one Harry greatly enjoyed visiting. He hadn't been here a lot during his Third Year (for a multitude of reasons), but he was determined to change that going forward. Hagrid was his oldest friend, after all, the one who had first introduced him to the wonderous world of magic, and one of the few adults Harry felt genuinely comfortable around.

"How very nice o' you two to visit me out 'ere again. It's been a while since I've seen either of yous!" Hagrid smiled, his booming voice reverberating against the walls of the small wooden house as he walked over to the fireplace to pour some boiling water into three rather huge cups. "You weren't around here a lot last year."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, Hagrid. Last year was… difficult… for a lot of reasons, but I should've visited more," Harry grimaced, lowering his head in apology to the enormous man in front of him.

"Hogwash, Harry! You have nothin' to apologize for. I saw you plenty o' times in my classes, I'm just happy you are here now on your own time! And you even brought Hermione with you!"

Hermione sent the half-giant a warm smile at his words.

"It's good to see you too, Hagrid. Still doing well as Professor in the Care of Magical Creatures subject then, I take it?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah... it's goin' well. Apart from that one mishap with… with ol' Buckbeak…" Hagrid replied with a grimace, his voice dropping considerably lower at the mention of the late hippogriff's name.

"I'm… I'm really sorry for your loss, by the way," Hermione added, redirecting her gaze to the table in front of her. "I knew something would most likely happen to him after he hurt Draco in that one lesson, but I never thought… that they would actually…"

"Ahh, don't worry about it. What's done is done. It was me own fault, really. Should never 'ave let young Mr. Malfoy agitate him the way I did. I knew how strong Buckbeak's pride was…"

Both Harry and Hermione could tell from the tone of his voice that the memory of Buckbeak still pained Hagrid. The poor creature had been executed at the end of last semester for the "serious" crime of bringing bodily harm to a member of a Noble House, with no regard taken to the fact that Draco had quite literally antagonized the creature into doing so in front of dozens of witnesses.

 _Gotta love wizarding politics…_ Harry thought grimly to himself. _Rotten all the way to the core._

"Actually… speakin' o' crimes… I've heard rumors that you have a court case of your own comin' up, Harry," the half-giant stated whilst walking over to the table with the three cups in his hands, all of which were now filled to the brim with piping hot tea.

"Oh yeah… I do," Harry grimaced, running an awkward hand through his unruly black hair before letting it fall back down onto the table. "I had completely forgotten about that."

Noticing his discomfort, Hermione enveloped the hand he had just placed down with her own, giving it a light squeeze.

"Well, to be fair… you did kind of bring that one on yourself," she commented.

"You really should'a known better than to mess with Malfoy, Harry. I know you. You're not a bad person, so I don't know what could'a compelled you to do what you did," Hagrid nodded, placing down one of the cups in front of him as he spoke. "But you sure as sunrise shouldn't have done it."

"Yeah, I know, I know… it's… there was obviously a reason behind it, of course, but still… I really shouldn't have given in to my anger," Harry sighed, shaking his head in defeat. "He's just so… **punchable**!"

"Oh, I get where you're comin' from. After what he did to poor ol' Buckbeak, I wanted to… Ah, nevermind. I pro'lly shouldn't say more. It's unfittin' of me as a Professor to speak ill of my students!" Hagrid grumbled, getting seated at the table before taking a huge swig of his tea, seemingly completely unfazed by the fact that it was quite literally boiling hot.

"… Whilst I think we can all agree that Malfoy is a mouthbreather of the highest order, it wasn't right of Harry to do what he did. Even if he did do it out of a wish to protect me," Hermione added, tightening her grip on Harry's hand. Harry, in turn, wisely chose to refrain from commenting any further on the situation. The two of them had already had this particular conversation multiple times over the past few days already, and Harry was in no hurry to reignite the argument that always followed.

 _I'm not going to apologize or feel sorry for giving that fucker what he deserved, even if Hermione wants me to_. _The most I can do is pretend that I'm at least a tiny bit regretful in front of the Wizengamot, so that they'll give me a lighter sentence._

Meeting Hermione's brown eyes with his own, he conveyed as much to her through a brief stare, which she responded to by sending him a weak smile.

"Anywhos…" Hagrid coughed, his eyes homing in on their now interlinked hands. "It's nice to see that the two of yous finally made it official! Been waitin' for you to make the plunge for quite some time now!"

His words caused the both of them to blush, but they didn't retract their hands or try to refute his statement. He was technically right, after all. The two of them were a proper couple now, and it was probably only a matter of time before the whole school found out. Not that it would come as a huge surprise to anyone, though. The other students had most likely thought them to be dating since the end of First Year.

"I've always thought that the two of yous would end up together at some point. Ever since you started hangin' around here in your First Year, in fact. You've always been quite the dynamic duo!"

"Oh stop it, Hagrid…" Hermione sighed, attempting to hide the smile on her face with little to no success.

"Yeah Hagrid, you've been thinking such things about us since we were 11 years old? That's kind of messed up, I'm not going to lie," Harry responded with a smirk, earning himself a light kick to the shin from Hermione.

"Ahh, it was nothin' major; I assure you. Just an inklin'… an inklin' that turned out to be right!" he laughed, before emptying the last of his cup in one big mouthful.

"To be fair, you're hardly the only one," Harry conceded, sending Hermione a cheeky wink as he talked. "I bet half the school is wondering what took us so long."

"Well, I was a bit preoccupied with trying to save your life from some new threat every year like clockwork, so forgive me if I wasn't exactly in the right mindset for romance before now!" Hermione giggled, causing Harry to snort.

"True that. You have a penchant for gettin' yourself into trouble, Harry. You're very much like your father in that way! He too loved gettin' himself into all manner of mischief, and had an intelligent witch on his side that would save him every time he stepped over the line," Hagrid smiled, before suddenly turning surprisingly serious. "Although… that's about where the similarities between the two of yous stop…"

Harry couldn't help but wince at Hagrid's words. He was right. Harry scarcely resembled his parents at all. According to what he had heard, he was quite the polar opposite of them, anti-social and cynical to their warm and joyful.

He supposed it only made sense that he would be different from them, though. Unlike his parents, Harry had grown up in a toxic household where he was not wanted, raised by people who had never shown him any kind of affection or love. Harry hadn't even known what friendship was like before he turned eleven and met Hermione. It was only natural that he would turn out at the very least slightly anti-social.

And yet, for some reason… hearing Hagrid speak so candidly about it made his heart throb in his chest. He felt as if he had somehow done something wrong by turning out the way he had.

"Hagrid, I'm sorry… for not being more like my parents," he suddenly blurted out, catching both Hagrid and Hermione by surprise. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione's face shifting rapidly between multiple different facial expressions, as if unsure of which one it wanted to portray. Hagrid, on the other hand, looked positively stunned, and it took him a good couple of seconds to regain enough of his composure to formulate a response.

"Harry, my boy… you have absolutely nothin' to apologize for! It's not your fault you grew up to be a different man than that of your 'pa, after all. If anything, I'd say more o' the blame lies with Dumbledore for letting you grow up with those detestable Muggle relatives o' yours!" Hagrid grumbled, his eyes narrowing with anger at the mention of the Dursley family. "A truly wicked bunch, that one."

"Well… I'm not going to disagree with you on that," Harry sighed before taking a tentative sip of the now significantly colder tea in front of him. It was surprisingly sweet and tasted vaguely of blueberry and lemon. "But still… sometimes… I find myself wishing that I was more like them, you know. More… open, and welcoming, to others. I think that's kind of what people expect from the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Hah! Screw their expectations! You are your own man, Harry, and a damn fine one at that, I reckon. Sure, you might not be exactly what they want you to be, but so what? You took care o' the Dark Lord for them. That ought to be more than enough!" Hagrid bellowed, shaking his head in indignation.

"… I agree with Hagrid," Hermione nodded, carefully tracing loving circles over the top of his hand with her thumb. "Whilst you definitely could stand to be less cynical, I really don't think you should blame yourself for being the person you are. If you were any different, you wouldn't be… Harry… after all."

"You say that as if my personality has never bothered you in the past," Harry pointed out.

"Oh it absolutely has; I'm just saying that you wouldn't be you without the unbearably shitty attitude," she fired back with a smile, causing Harry to snort.

"Fair point."

"Ehh, I try."

"Either way..." Hagrid interjected, using his nearby umbrella-wand to cast a quick Tempus charm. "The two of yous should pro'lly get going soon. The students from Beauxbatons and the Durmstrang Institute will be arriving shortly, and I'm sure the Headmaster will want to gather everyone in the Great Hall in order to celebrate the occasion when that happens."

"Oh, yeah, right," Harry answered, hurriedly finishing off the rest of his tea before getting up from his seat. "The whole Triwizard Tournament thing. That happens today."

"You're damn right it happens today! I've been tasked with overseein' the landing strip for the Beauxbatons carriage, so I have to go as well. Me and Olympe, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, go way back ya see," Hagrid added with an amorous smile, causing Harry to pause. He had never seen Hagrid smile like that before.

"You coming, Harry?" Hermione suddenly asked, having already made her way to the door without him noticing. Shaking his head, he pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind before nodding in response. He would have time to question Hagrid about it later. For now, they had to get back to the school.

"It was nice seeing you again, Hagrid!" he smiled as he walked past the half-giant.

"Likewise, Harry! Now off ye go!"

* * *

"I still don't like the idea of you performing that ritual, by the way," Hermione muttered as they made their way back to the school, her grip on Harry's hand tightening ever so slightly as she spoke. "What if something goes wrong?"

"Trust me Hermione, I don't like it either. But what choice do I have? I don't stand a chance against Voldemort as I am now, and you know that just as well as I do. It doesn't matter how much we study, there is simply no way of catching up to him. He's just too powerful. And so we need to find some way to cheat," Harry answered matter-of-factly, repeating the exact same sentiment he had voiced multiple times over the past few days. Needless to say, this was not the first time the two of them were having this discussion. Ever since he had told her about his plan to perform the ritual that night in the Room of Requirement, she had been attempting to change his mind. And so far, she had made zero progress on that front.

"I know that, Harry, but I seriously doubt that this is the way to go about it! Those kinds of rituals are forbidden for a reason, after all! You're messing with magic far beyond your capabilities!"

"That may be so, but I have to take that chance. You've heard the prophecy Dumbledore told me about in my Second Year, Hermione. " _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not..._ ". Now, that last bit is obviously a reference to something I'm supposed to have. So what if... what if the power I gain from this ritual IS that unknown power? Wouldn't that make it instrumental in the fight against Voldemort?" Harry argued, hoping to whatever God there was that his girlfriend would see reason. He understood her apprehension, he really did, but this was not something he was willing to back down on. That book... that Dark Artifact had ended up in his possession for a reason. He could feel it in his very bones.

"Yes, but prophecies are fickle things to rely on, Harry! They are often extremely difficult to interpret correctly, and usually worded in such a way as to allow for all manner of speculation! The "power the Dark Lord knows not" could quite literally mean anything! What about the power that allowed you to survive the Killing Curse, for instance? The power behind your mother's sacrifice?" she shot back, stopping dead in her tracks and fixing him with a stubborn look. It was the same kind of look she usually wore whenever she wanted him to understand that she strongly disagreed with him.

"Look, Hermione, I get it; you're worried about me, and with good reason. Godric knows I would've been worried if you had been talking about performing some unknown, bootleg Dark ritual," Harry sighed, turning around to face his girlfriend. "But I would've understood if you claimed it was absolutely necessary. Because I trust you, Hermione. I trust your judgement, and your intellect. All I ask is that you do the same for me."

A moment of silence passed between them as Hermione contemplated this, her face scrunched up in worry, her teeth biting down nervously on her lower lip. She really didn't like the idea of Harry doing something so dangerous. The very thought of it alone caused waves of anguish and uncertainty to ripple through her body. But she had to admit that she couldn't really see a much better solution either. The two of them had been studying rigorously and training hard for several years at this point, exceeding the other students in their Year by a wide margin. And yet, she still didn't feel like they were anywhere close to the Dark Lord's level. He was the most dangerous Dark Wizard to have ever lived, after all. She had to assume that his strength far exceeded that of every other wizard she had ever met, bar perhaps Dumbledore himself.

"I hate it..." she finally muttered, breaking the silence. "I hate it so much it makes my skin crawl, but... I'll accept it. As long as you let me be there when you do it, I'll accept it. I promised to stand with you, after all, and I intend to keep my word."

A wide smile formed on Harry's face as he heard her utter those words, his insides lighting up with relief and exhilaration. Words couldn't convey just how much he appreciated his girlfriend in that particular moment.

"Thank you, Hermione," he breathed, walking over to her and placing a loving hand on her cheek, his emerald green eyes locking onto hers with passionate intensity. The feel of his hand against her skin caused shivers to run up and down the length of Hermione's back, and she found herself overwhelmed by a sudden urge to kiss him.

"Don't get me wrong," she started, attempting to appear more incensed than she really was. "You shouldn't expect me to be happy about it. But if you **truly** believe it is necessary, then... then..."

"Then you'll let me do it," he finished for her, pushing his forehead against hers so that their eyes and mouths were only inches apart.

"... Yes," she whispered, staring into his eyes for just a moment before leaning in to plant her lips on his. The kiss she gave him was light and fleeting, but packed with such raw emotion that it threatened to overwhelm her senses should she allow herself to be swept away by its blissful waves.

"You're amazing, you know that, right?" Harry breathed once they broke apart, his mind filled with nothing but her as he looked into those brown eyes he had come to so greatly love.

"Well, you're not half-bad yourself," Hermione giggled back, his words causing a slight blush to appear on her cheeks.

Sending her a warm smile, Harry took her hand in his own before gently dragging her with him, continuing on the trek back to Hogwarts once again.

"Do you remember... when we first met?" he suddenly said, a nostalgic-looking expression fixing itself on his face.

"You mean... on the Hogwarts Express?" she replied as she followed after him, casting her mind back to her First Year at Hogwarts.

"Yeah... when we shared that train compartment together with Ron Weasley..." he nodded, thinking back to his first meeting with his first proper friend and eventual girlfriend.

* * *

_Eleven-year-old Harry Potter couldn't help but sigh as he walked through the crowded hallways of the Hogwarts Express for the second time since leaving King's Cross Station, his eyes darting to the side at regular intervals in his search for an empty compartment to take a seat in. So far, they all seemed to be taken, and his social anxiety wouldn't allow him to just sit down in an occupied space with a bunch of people he didn't know from before. He had always been looked at as an outsider by his fellow classmates, after all, and he doubted things would be different here just because these people were students of a magical school instead of a regular one._

_It took him a while, but he finally came upon a compartment with only a single person inside of it. The person appeared to be a girl roughly his age, with thick, bushy brown hair and fair skin. Her face was obscured by a book he did not recognize._

_Deciding that he probably wouldn't find a better place to sit, Harry took one last deep breath to strengthen his resolve before slowly opening the door and sitting down opposite of the unknown girl._

_"H-Hey there", he started, running an awkward hand through his black hair._ _"Mind if I sit here?"_

_"Do as you please," the girl responded from behind the book, not even bothering to shoot as much as a customary look in his direction. Apparently, she deemed her reading material more interesting than him, something he couldn't really blame her for. He loved reading as well._

_"Thanks... My name is Harry, by the way. Harry Potter," he continued, hoping to at least manage an introduction before he lost her completely to her book for the rest of the trip._

_"... Wait..." she suddenly said, catching him off-guard by lowering the book to stare at him with surprisingly beautiful brown eyes. "Did… did you just say… Harry Potter?"_

_"Umm… Yes, yes I did," Harry answered, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Is there something wrong with that?"_

_"No, no... It's just that... I wasn't expecting Harry Potter of all people to sit down in my compartment," she offered, a mildly intrigued look replacing the surprised one._

_"Ahh. Well... here I am," he responded with a slight smile, causing the young girl to snort._

_"Yes, here you are..."_

_"Uhh... Mind if I ask for your name?"_

_"Oh, right. I'm Hermione Granger. First Year," she stated matter-of-factly, closing the book she had in her hands and placing it down next to her. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."_

_"Uhm... likewise," Harry nodded, inwardly wondering just why she was using such formal phrases as "pleasure to make your acquaintance". Such things were usually only said by full-grown adults, after all, and not eleven-year-old children._

_"So are you really **the** Harry Potter then?" she asked, regarding him with a mix of suspicion and interest. "The famous wizard who defeated He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?"_

_"Y-Yeah, I guess I am... I didn't know about my fame before just a couple of days ago, though. My parents died when I was very young, you see, so I've grown up with my Muggle relatives who apparently hate magic," he started, a wry smile forming on his face as he thought back to the night Hagrid had come to pick him up. That certainly had been one night to remember. "And they chose to deliberately keep me in the dark regarding the wizarding world, so all of this is still very new to me."_

_"Seriously?!" Hermione asked, her eyes going wide with shock. "Harry Potter didn't know about the wizarding world or even his own story before just recently?"_

_"No, I didn't. I learned about it from a friend of mine called Hagrid, who helped me get ready for Hogwarts by taking me to Diagon Alley. I'm still kind of in shock over the fact that magic is actually real, to be honest. I can't wait to learn more about it!" he nodded, the excitement of going to a magical school getting the better of him for just a moment before he managed to reign it back in again. It wouldn't do to come off as a giddy little child in front of such a beautiful girl, after all._

_Hermione moved to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of the door sliding open, revealing a young boy with flaming orange hair and freckled complexion standing in the opening. He had a goofy smile on his face, and was so blatantly ginger that Harry could've sworn he could feel the vacuum where his soul should've been._

_The new arrival took a seat right next to Harry, before moving to introduce himself._

_"Hey there, I'm Ron Weasley," he said, still with that goofy smile plastered on his face._

_"Oh, another one..." Hermione muttered to herself before turning to address the young boy._ _"Hello. I'm Hermione Granger, First Year at Hogwarts."_

_"A-And I'm Harry Potter, also a First Year. Nice to meet you."_

_A moment of silence descended upon their little group before Harry's words finally registered in Ron's brain._

_"Wait, did you just say Harry Potter!?" he borderline screamed, his eyebrows disappearing so far up his forehead that they almost blended in with his hair._

_"Yes, I did... why does everyone keep assuming I'm not who I say I am?" Harry muttered in response, holding out his hand so the ginger-haired boy could shake it._

_"Wicked!" Ron smiled, grabbing Harry's outstretched hand with his own. His hand was surprisingly clammy, so Harry made sure to stealthily wipe his fingers on the side of the couch once the handshake ended._

_"Well, I don't know if "wicked" is a very accurate description of my name, but I'll take it as a compliment," Harry said once it became clear that Ron wasn't going to speak up. Then he turned to address Hermione once more._

_"So anyways, you were about to say…?"_

_"Oh, right... you were telling me about your upbringing. Well... if you're truly telling the truth, then I have to say that it was pretty mean of your relatives to keep you in the dark about such important things. You deserve to know the truth behind your parents' death, if nothing else."  
_

_"Yeah, I agree. My aunt and uncle aren't exactly what you'd call "good people", so it doesn't surprise me that they would try to hide something so big from me. We don't really get along," Harry continued, trying his best to ignore the star-struck look Ron was shooting him from the side._

_"Really now... What a truly unexpected turn of events. Consider me intrigued. I look forward to getting to know you better, Harry Potter," Hermione stated with a smile, causing Harry's heart to jump in his chest. Nobody had ever said something like that to him before. For as long as he could remember, he had always been alone. Could this really be... the start of what people called a friendship?_

_"Likewise, Hermione Granger," Harry responded with a smile. In any case, this was very much a person Harry did not regret meeting. She seemed very composed and intelligent for her age, and was also quite beautiful, at least in his eyes._

_"Is it true that you have a scar on your forehead shaped as a lightning bolt?" Ron Weasley suddenly exclaimed, catching Harry by surprise._

_"... Yes, that's true," Harry responded, turning to face the much less attractive young boy sitting on his right._

_"Awesome! Could I see it?" Ron nodded, eyes wide with childish excitement._

_Harry had to take a moment to consider whether or not the ginger-haired boy was actually being serious, but once he realized that he was, he reluctantly pushed away the black hair that was obstructing the scar._

_"Wicked..." Ron breathed as his eyes locked in on the scar, regarding it with awe._

_"Yes, it's all very exciting. But... Ron, was it?... I highly doubt Harry here appreciates being paraded around like a circus animal," Hermione chimed in, regarding the ginger-haired boy with the same look on her face one usually reserved for a particularly bothersome insect._

_"Oh, right. I apologize, mate. Just really wanted to see it, that's all," Ron smiled, tearing his eyes away from the wound at last._

_"Ehh... fair enough, I suppose," Harry muttered in response, lowering his hand so his hair fell back down again. "No harm done."_

_"So, which House do you think you'll get sorted into? Personally, I'm aiming for Gryffindor. My entire family has been in Gryffindor," Ron continued, letting his gaze alternate between Harry and Hermione._

_"Uhh... sorted into the whatnow?" Harry asked, clearly confused. He knew precious little about Hogwarts after all, apart from the fact that it was supposed to be a magical school._

_"He's talking about the four Houses of Hogwarts, Harry. Everyone is sorted into one when they arrive in their First Year, based on their personality, values and ambition," Hermione explained, a wry smile flashing across her face. "You have Gryffindor, representing courage, chivalry and determination. Ravenclaw, representing wit, learning and wisdom. Hufflepuff, which is more inclusive than the other Houses, representing work, dedication, patience, loyalty, and fair play. And finally, Slytherin, representing cunning, resourcefulness, leadership and ambition."_

_"Huh..." Harry muttered, mulling over this new piece of information in his head. "I wonder which one I'll be sorted into..."_

_"I'm rather certain I'll be sorted into Ravenclaw," Hermione noted, turning to stare out of the window at the trees whizzing by. "It only makes sense, given my interest in learning and such."_

_"Ahh, okay... Well then I hope I get sorted into Ravenclaw as well," Harry nodded, causing Hermione to shoot him a surprised look._

_"Why?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion._

_"Because... I also really like learning... and... you're going to be there," he answered, a slight blush erupting across his cheeks._

_"O-Oh..." Hermione mumbled in response, a similar blush coloring her own cheeks as she diverted her gaze back out the window._

_"Do you think they'll let me be on the Quidditch team if I beat the captain in Wizard's Chess?" Ron asked, completely oblivious to the weird tension that had descended upon their little compartment._

* * *

**The Great Hall**

"SILENCE!"

The voice of Albus Dumbledore carried itself far and wide throughout the Great Hall, cutting through and silencing the cheerful chatter in all but an instant. An eerie, incessant silence descended upon the room in its wake, as everyone's attention was directed towards the Headmaster in suspenseful anticipation.

"We are gathered here tonight to celebrate a very special event," Dumbledore started, his sonorous voice rippling across the stone walls. "As you all know, this school has been selected to host an extraordinary event known as the Triwizard Tournament this year!"

The silence stretched on as Dumbledore took a moment to gaze out over the sea of students. Everyone knew what most likely came next. The introduction of the other schools. Most of the students present here had already seen them arrive earlier that very day, after all. Harry and Hermione hadn't, busy as they had been reminiscing about their past, but judging by what they had heard, it had been a most breathtaking sight. A flying carriage drawn by large, winged horses descending upon the castle from the skies, and a magnificent ship emerging from the depths of the Black Lake.

"A little while ago, I received news that our friends from France and the far north have arrived here on the grounds. So I expect all of you to be on your best behavior, and join me in welcoming them to our school," Dumbledore continued, his eyes sweeping over the hall before settling on the double doors at the back. "I believe introductions are in order. First up are the lovely ladies from the French school of wizardry, **Beauxbatons Academy of Magic**!"

As he shouted out the name of the school, the enormous wooden doors leading in to the Great Hall suddenly flew open, and in came an array of girls, all dressed in stark blue colors. An army of transfigured doves emerged from underneath their clothes as they walked, making the other students in the Great Hall gasp in surprise. Following behind them was what could only be described as a massive woman the size of Hagrid, dressed in superfluous clothing.

All of the girls were beautiful in their own ways, but what caught everyone's attention the most was definitely the one walking next to the enormous woman Harry assumed to be their Headmistress. With long, silvery-blonde hair, deep blue eyes and spotless skin, she was so breathtakingly gorgeous that the room seemed to become strangely airless when you looked at her. There was also an odd sense of magical aura hanging around her, almost as if her very presence emanated a faint, silvery glow.

Looking around, Harry could see that the other males in the room had all stopped to stare at her, dumb looks on their faces and eyes glazed over with desire and longing. Confused, he turned to look at the girl once more, and was surprised to feel a slight tug at his magic, a tug which gradually grew in intensity until it became downright annoying. Scoffing, Harry emptied his mind of unnecessary thoughts like he had learned to do through his Occlumency studies, and found with some level of satisfaction that the tug quickly evaporated as soon as he did so.

Turning to ask Hermione what this was all about, he was surprised to find his girlfriend looking positively furious, staring daggers at the unknown girl. He had never seen Hermione look at anyone apart from Draco Malfoy that way, and wisely chose to hold his tongue. He supposed he could ask her about it later, once she had calmed down from whatever had her so riled up.

The ladies of Beauxbatons stopped twice on their way up towards the podium, extending their arms out towards either side of the room in a welcoming gesture. As they reached the front of the hall, they split up into two groups, with one girl splitting off to the middle to perform what looked like French ballet. Her moves were graceful, calm and collected, and Harry had to applaud her for her efforts.

As her dancing came to a halt, the students were ripped from their trance-like state, and a massive round of applause filled the hall. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noted that the girls didn't appear to be nearly as enthusiastic about the Beauxbatons' students arrival as the males.

"Now, however charming these young ladies may be, they are not the only students that will be joining us at Hogwarts this year. Allow me to now introduce the proud sons of the **Durmstrang Institute**!" Dumbledore continued, throwing his arms out to either side

Another flock of students came marching into the Great Hall, except these ones were far more intimidating than the beautiful girls of Beauxbatons. Holding what looked like bronze rods in their hands, they slammed them into the ground at regular intervals, each crack of the rods eliciting a shower of sparks that scattered across the stone tiles. Walking behind the two groups of rod-carriers were two masculine-looking men, one considerably older than the other one.

Harry guessed the eldest one to be the Headmaster, but the younger one… It took Harry a moment to recognize him, but once he did, the realization came as quite the shock. The younger boy was Victor Krum, the famous Bulgarian seeker that had participated in the Quidditch World Cup just months earlier. He walked with all the confidence one would normally associate with a world-famous athlete, the Russian ushanka on his head hammering home the image of a robust northerner.

As they reached the front of the hall, the two groups with the rods split off, leaving a sole man in the middle who got down on one knee, summoning a phoenix made of crackling fire from his mouth.

The applause was somewhat weaker than that which the Beauxbatons students received, but it was still more than loud enough, with some students even leaving their seats to give a standing ovation. Their Headmaster, whom Dumbledore introduced as Igor Karkaroff, nodded in response with a crooked smile on his face, clearly proud of his students.

A few seconds later, when the applause died down a bit, Dumbledore yet again opened his mouth to speak.

"I hope that all Hogwarts students will welcome these new arrivals as if they were your own brothers and sisters. I don't want to see any boorish or disrespectful behavior from any of you, is that understood? These are your fellow wizards and witches, and are therefore worthy of your respect. So please treat them as such."

The solemn silence that filled the hall at his words seemed to be answer enough for Dumbledore.

"Now then, to reiterate: the process of selecting the champions will be taken care of by the Goblet of Fire. Each student over the age of 17 that wishes to enter the Triwizard Tournament will have to place a piece of parchment with their name on it into the Goblet, and in 48 hours, it will select one champion from each school, based on who it feels are the most worthy to participate."

In front of him, a bearskin cover came floating down from the magical ceiling, landing on an invisible object that had apparently been there all along. With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore removed the cover, exposing a huge bronze Goblet with a crackling blue flame shining brightly from its peak. The students gathered in the Great Hall was nothing short of entranced by its magical beauty, especially by the blue flame at the top. It seemed to have a will of its own, bending and twisting with such ferocity and life that it seemed unnatural for a flame.

"And finally…" Dumbledore nodded, gesturing towards the four gargantuan tables as food materialized from thin air on all of them. "Let us all take part in this grand feast to celebrate the arrival of our honored guests!"

The next thirty minutes or so was spent partaking in one of the best meals Harry had had during his three-ish years at Hogwarts. The mood around the Ravenclaw table was light and cheerful, and so he spent his time happily conversing with Hermione and Luna, completely oblivious to the stare of one particular French Veela, who was growing increasingly furious at his inability to notice her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter was significantly longer than usual, which I hope helped alleviate the pain of me being so ridiculously slow to update. A lot of stuff happened in this chapter, so it took longer than anticipated to write, which I do apologize for. Things are going to be speeding up now as we head into the Triwizard Tournament Arc, so expect the pace to pick up significantly from here on out.
> 
> As a side note, I would like to make it clear that Beauxbatons is NOT, in fact, an all-girls school, even if I portrayed it as such in this chapter. It does have an overwhelming majority of girls, yes, but there are boys attending the school (including alumni such as Nicholas Flamel, actually) which I will be working with in the story going forward. Durmstrang is also NOT an all-boys school, even if it was portrayed as such in the movies and in this chapter.


	24. Act 2: A Veela's Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

**Beauxbatons Carriage**

Fleur Delacour was angry. In fact, she was furious. Marching back and forth in her surprisingly spacious room in the Beauxbatons carriage, she tried her best to contain her anger with little success. The flames of fury within her burned with a terrible passion the likes of which she had not experienced in many years.

The cause of it? That little English shit, Harry Potter.

She had spotted him almost immediately upon entering the Great Hall. The mop of black, unruly hair. The intense emerald-green eyes. The slightly intrigued, yet reserved look he gave the world. And of course, the pièce de resistance, the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

At first, she hadn't thought much of him. But then, as she gradually made her way down towards the podium, she had come to notice that something seemed to be a little off about the infamous young wizard. He did not seem to be affected by her passive Allure the way the other males in the room were. His eyes were not glazed over with longing or desire, nor were they fixed on her, but rather on the brown-haired witch sitting next to him.

This had irked Fleur, as she was not used to being ignored. Mistreated and bullied by her fellow students, sure, but never ignored. Especially not by members of the opposite sex.

Deciding that such an oversight had to be remedied, she had secretly targeted him with an extra strong burst of her Allure, thinking that would be enough to get him to pay attention to her. But to her great surprise, this too had failed to achieve the desired result. In fact, once her Allure hit him, he had simply frowned slightly, as if annoyed by her ministrations.

_Annoyed! Annoyed at my Allure! Oh, the gall!_

Muttering curses underneath her breath, Fleur came to a stop in front of the mirror she kept on her desk, the glassy surface reflecting a beautiful face marred with terrible anger back at her. She was so incredibly pissed off at the young wizard she could scarcely think straight. Never in her **life** had anyone reacted to her presence that way before. Most men would find their eyes naturally drawn to her by her passive Allure alone, and the amount she had directed towards the young boy earlier that day had gone far beyond that. Even those who were naturally resistant to it would usually show **some** sign of mental struggle when she blasted it at them, including her father who had lived with several Veela for most of his life.

But Harry Potter had simply **scoffed** at her Allure. Scoffed at the special attention she had shown him, and shrugged it off like it was some kind of annoyance.

Fleur would not stand for it. She simply couldn't accept being treated in such a pitiful way. Even the real Fleur, the version of herself she kept locked away beneath the veneer of the Ice Queen, was roaring with fury. Something had to be done.

_Tomorrow… after breakfast… I'll go introduce myself to him. And then, once I get him away from the crowds… I'll give him a full blast of my Allure, no holds barred. We'll see how well he manages to ignore me then!_

Smiling ruefully to herself, she walked over to lay down in her bed, thoughts of revenge swirling around in her head like electrons around a nucleus. She was going to make sure Harry Potter rued the day he chose to ignore Fleur Delacour.

_Sleep tight, little Harry. For tomorrow, I take you down!_

* * *

**The Great Hall**

Harry Potter couldn't help but yawn as he got seated in-between Luna and Hermione at the Ravenclaw table, his eyes naturally shifting towards the person sitting directly opposite of him. Neville had apparently decided to betray his Gryffindor classmates in order to sit with them instead, a betrayal Harry suspected was motivated by a wish to be closer to Luna. The shy young boy clearly had a thing for her, which had to be a wildly confusing affair, given Luna's… peculiar nature. Harry doubted the girl was capable of normal romance even if she tried.

Feeling his stomach growl with hunger, he decided to abandon such thoughts and instead start assembling the pieces required to make his standard breakfast meal. First there was the bread, which he took from a nearby toast rack. Then came the mayo, the tomatoes, the cheese, the ham and the lettuce, which he got from the various serving platters scattered about the table. And finally, there was the bacon, which he snatched from Luna's already stacked plate, as she was a notoriously fast eater that would usually hog all of the bacon as soon as she got her hands on it.

"Hey, I was going to eat that, Harry," she remarked in her usual calm voice as she noticed his wandering hand steal away a couple of her prized possessions.

"Oh, I'm sorry, do you want it back? I totally understand if you do, you only have another 17 on your plate, after all," he replied with a smile, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Hermione.

"Stop taking food from Luna, Harry. You know how she gets when someone takes her bacon."

"No, it's okay," Luna nodded, gesturing for him to keep it. "I have more than enough. Plus, I'm not feeling particularly hungry this morning."

"N-Not particularly hungry?" Neville stammered, shifting to stare at her in pure disbelief. "You have seven slices of t-toast on your plate, Luna."

"Exactly. I usually have nine."

"Neville…" Harry grinned, sending his friend a comforting look. "Just go with it, and be grateful she hasn't stolen any of your bacon yet."

"T-That's only because I never got any to b-begin with!"

"You can have some of mine if you'd like," Hermione chimed in, closing the book she had been reading and putting it away in her Bag of Unlimited Holding. "I don't think I'm going to eat it all."

"Oh… T-Thanks, Hermione."

"No problem."

"I never should have given you that bag, you know," Harry commented as he finished constructing his sandwich. "I didn't know what I was doing, giving you the ability to take all of your books with you at all times."

"Yes, it truly is a magnificent piece of magical ingenuity… I can't wait to see what you're going to get me this year," his girlfriend winked, blowing him an overexaggerated kiss.

"Ahh… I always knew you were a gold digger."

That elicited a short round of laughter from the others, including Hermione.

"True! I want that Potter money," she giggled, before running a loving hand through his unruly black hair. "And I want you."

"Good thing I can supply both, then," Harry responded, leaning into her touch ever so slightly before returning his attention to the sandwich in front of him.

It had been a while since the four of them had eaten breakfast together like this. After his reputation nosedived following the whole ordeal with Draco, Neville and Luna had made the wise decision to distance themselves from him momentarily, something he didn't blame them for. They had restricted their hangout-sessions to the Room of Requirement, where the others wouldn't find them, and avoided interaction with one another when out in public.

The only reason they were sharing a meal today was because of the early hour, which meant less students gathered in the Great Hall and less eyes focused on them.

"I don't mean to break up your romantic moment, you two, but… Do you know that girl, Harry?" Luna suddenly asked, drawing Harry's focus away from his sandwich yet again. He immediately noticed what it was Luna was referring to as soon as he lifted his eyes.

A very intense-looking girl was heading directly towards their table, her deep blue eyes focused solely on him as she walked. He vaguely recognized her as the one who had been walking next to the enormous Headmistress during the Welcoming Ceremony last night.

Unsurprisingly enough, she looked just as beautiful in her normal school attire as she did when she was all dolled-up like yesterday, and her appearance immediately drew the eyes of every male gathered in the Great Hall.

"'Arry Potter," she stated with surprising ire as she came to a stop in front of their table. "A pleasure."

"Uhh… Likewise…? Miss…?"

"Delacour. Fleur Delacour."

"Well, nice to meet you, miss Delacour… Now… Ehh… Not to be rude or anything, but... Care to explain what you're doing here?" Harry asked, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right.

"I 'ave something I need to talk with you about… in private," she responded, her eyes darting across the others for just a second before settling on him once again.

"Like hell you do!" Hermione suddenly sneered; her face twisted into an angry grimace. "I saw what you did yesterday… Focusing your Allure on him like that!"

"Allure?" Harry blinked, turning to look at his girlfriend.

"Yes, Allure! She's a Veela, Harry! She can hypnotize people, especially men, with her magic!"

"You can?" Harry asked, now looking at Fleur again.

"It is a part of our nature, yes. We cannot 'elp it," she shrugged, seemingly completely unfazed by Hermione and her sudden outburst.

"But you can control it, to a certain extent! And yesterday, you were TRYING to hypnotize Harry!" Hermione continued, refusing to back down.

"I was simply testing 'im," Fleur responded, a predatory smirk flashing across her face for just an instant. "I noticed that he seemed to be unaffected by my passive Allure, and simply wanted to see whether or not he was truly immune."

"Wait, hold up a minute here…" Harry frowned, sending Fleur an apprehensive look. "You tried to seduce me with your Veela-magic yesterday…? So… That slight tug at my magic… That was you?"

"Yes, that was _moi_ ," Fleur nodded with a scowl, suddenly looking a lot more frustrated. "I've never 'eard it described as a… 'slight tug' before, 'owever."

"You shouldn't go with her, Harry. She might try something!" Hermione said, staring at the French Veela with a look of pure animosity.

"And who are you to be making such claims?" Fleur stated, eyes narrowing as she turned to face Hermione.

"Oh, I don't know, his **girlfriend** perhaps?!"

"Hermione…" Harry sighed, moving to place a loving hand atop one of hers. "It's okay… As we have just established, I'm apparently immune to her Allure, so she wouldn't be able to seduce me even if she tried."

"But… But…"

"Look… I know you're worried, okay? But you have to trust me on this one. You are the woman I love. And no Veela party trick is ever going to change that."

"Excuse me?!" Fleur scoffed.

"… A-Alright… I trust you," Hermione breathed after thinking about it for a couple of seconds. "I just don't like it when other girls try to hit on my boyfriend."

"Believe me, I get that… I'd be equally as furious if someone tried to hit on you," Harry chuckled, earning himself a slight smile from Hermione.

"Before you go, though…" she started, a nefarious smirk coloring her features for just a moment before she suddenly jumped forwards and crashed her lips against his. The kiss she gave him was so primal and lustful that it easily drew the attention of most of the students gathered in the Great Hall, who had all been watching their little altercation with eager eyes.

Once they finally broke apart for air, Harry couldn't help but smile at the shocked expression on Fleur's face.

_Hermione sure knows how to play._

"A-Are you ready to come with me now then, 'Arry?" Fleur asked, blinking twice in order to regain her composure.

"Yes, I am," Harry nodded, turning to send Hermione one last smile before getting up from his seat. "Lead the way!"

* * *

The duo left the Great Hall and headed towards the West Tower with surprising haste, ducking and weaving in-between groups of curious students as they went. Everyone they encountered on their way stopped to stare at them. Harry wasn't sure if it was because of Fleur's passive Allure or the potent combination of Beauxbatons Most Beautiful and Hogwarts Most Hated, but he wasn't planning on stopping to find out.

Once they got a little closer to their apparent destination, Harry finally realized where they were going. Fleur was taking him to the Owlery.

"Uh… Fleur?" he finally asked as they arrived at the bottom of the long, winding staircase that would take them to the top of the West Tower.

"Yes?"

"Why are you taking me to the Owlery?"

"Because I 'ave a letter to send. And because I figured we would be alone there."

"Oh… Okay…" Harry nodded, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as he followed after her up the steps. It took them a good few minutes to reach the top, but neither of them were particularly winded when they got there. Both Harry and Fleur were in great shape, after all.

Once they entered the room where the birds were kept, Harry proceeded to wait and watch in silence as Fleur fished out the letter she was going to send from the inside of her clothes. Based on the way she moved to retrieve it, he guessed that she must have kept it tucked underneath the strap of her bra.

"Creative place to store a letter," he commented drily.

"It's convenient," she responded with a shrug, not embarrassed in the slightest. "Girls store things there all the time."

"They do?"

" _Oui_."

"Ahh… Well, the more you know."

Turning his back to him, the French Veela walked over to one of the many birdcages littering the open space to take a peek inside.

"This is one of the Rental Birds, no?"

"Yeah. Hogwarts keeps a couple of them around for students and visitors to use. Not everyone keeps their owls here at school, after all."

"I understand. We 'ave the same arrangement at Beauxbatons."

"Is that where you are sending your letter?"

" _Oui_."

The silence returned as she stretched her arm into the cage to retrieve a brown, fuzzy-looking owl from the inside, its massive eyes locking onto her with a hint of suspicion as she gently lifted it out.

"Do not worry, little one. I will not 'urt you. I just need you to send a letter for me."

The brown owl stared at her for a couple of seconds before flying up to land on a nearby bird stand.

"'Ere is the letter."

Holding it out in front of her, the fuzzy owl was quick to grab it with its beak before shifting to look at her with what Harry assumed to be a mix of anticipation and impatience.

"It is going to Gabrielle Delacour. You can find 'er, no?"

The bird simply turned around and launched itself out the window in response.

"I shall take that as a yes, then."

"So… with that done, mind telling me what you brought me up here for?" Harry asked, leaning up against a nearby pole as he talked.

"Of course," Fleur responded, turning around to face him. "I simply 'ave something I wish to… test."

For a moment, nothing happened. But then, out of nowhere, an overwhelming magical pressure suddenly washed over Harry. This unknown force was not painful or annoying, but rather… pleasant, and warm. It was like a gentle caress, ghosting across every inch of his skin, and he quickly found that he did not want it to end.

Staring at Fleur with wide eyes, he couldn't help but gasp at her supernatural beauty. In that moment, she looked positively **radiant** , and for some reason, he felt a strong need to impress and treasure her.

But then… his mind revolted. Something very powerful and very dark suddenly woke to life with a roar, tearing his hypnotized self to shreds and returning him to his senses. A terrifying anger erupted from his chest, spreading out into every part of his body before consuming him entirely.

" **STOP!** " Harry commanded, sneering at the French Veela with such hostility it caused her to physically recoil. The magical pressure disappeared as swiftly as it had started, leaving him feeling both hollow and angry at the same time.

"What the fuck did you just do to me?!" he snarled, grabbing ahold of Fleur's hair to tilt her head upwards, forcing her to look at him.

"I-I… didn't mean to…"

"WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?"

"I used my Allure on you!"

"Don't lie to me! That felt nothing like it did yesterday!"

"T-That's because… yesterday… I was only directing a m-modest amount at you. Today, I g-gave you a full blast."

Harry had to take a deep breath in order to stop himself from snapping her neck then and there.

"And why… on God's green Earth… did you think that would be a good idea?"

"I-I just wanted to see if you were truly immune!"

A couple of nerve-wracking seconds went by as Harry considered her answer. Then, he abruptly let go of her hair.

"Don't ever do something like that to me again," he growled. "Do you understand?"

Fleur swiftly nodded in response, eyes wide with shock and fear.

"Good. In return… I'll stay out of your way. And I expect you to do the same for me."

This time, he didn't bother to wait for an answer. Turning around, Harry left the Owlery at a brisk pace, leaving a now thoroughly shocked French Veela behind. Needless to say, he couldn't wait to get away from Fleur Delacour and her filthy seductress magic.

* * *

_**One Day Later** _

The Great Hall was filled with life by the time Harry got there. The constant buzzing of hundreds of students all talking over one another in unison was deafening, but as the years had gone by, Harry found that he had grown accustomed to it. Privet Drive had never really meant anything to him, so Hogwarts was the closest thing he'd ever come to having a real childhood home. And the sound of people talking like this was just one of those things that made Hogwarts, Hogwarts.

Finding his seat next to the other Ravenclaws, he shot Hermione a quick wink before letting his eyes wander over towards the other side of the room, where he spotted Fleur sitting in the middle of a huge crowd of female Beauxbatons students. The sight of her alone caused his lips to pull up into a sneer.

He hadn't spoken to her since the incident in the Owlery. Dragging him away from his girlfriend, just to blast him with her Allure? Seriously, who did she think she was? That pretentious bitch…

"SILENCE!"

The voice of Albus Dumbledore tore through the chatty atmosphere of the Great Hall, shushing the students and commanding everyone's attention.

"Welcome, any and all, to the Selection Ceremony for the Triwizard Tournament! Today is the day we reveal whom gets chosen as Triwizard Champions! You have now had 48 hours to enter your names into the Goblet of Fire, and as of this moment, that entrance period is at an end! Now, the Goblet shall decide which of you are worthy of participating in this distinguished event. Bartemius, if you would do us the honor."

The Ministry man clad in black robes rose from his seat, and walked up to the podium. Dumbledore gave him a quick pat on the back, before gesturing towards the Goblet, which had been placed in the open space in front of the four enormous tables.

Pulling out his wand, the stern-looking man pointed it towards the Goblet before uttering a silent spell that only he could hear. The fire on top of the bronze object immediately grew in size, crackling with such ferocity it made the students sitting at the front jump in their seats.

As the lights in the Great Hall dimmed, the fire changed color to a deep purple, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Harry stared at it as if entranced, along with the other students. It truly was a captivating piece of spellwork.

Suddenly, the flame seemed to bulge with extreme pressure before shooting out a single spark of purple fire high into the air, which gave way to the smoking form of one burnt piece of parchment, floating in circles down towards the ground. As the students watched it fall, Dumbledore stretched out his hand and grabbed it out of the air with surprising speed.

"Now then: the first Triwizard Champion, hailing from the school of Durmstrang, is… Viktor Krum!"

The entire hall burst out in applause, none louder than the Durmstrang students, who were currently busy dogpiling Krum. The Bulgarian seeker held a clenched fist high in the air in a gesture of victory as his classmates surrounded him on all sides, congratulating him on his admittance into the Tournament.

 _Not surprising_ , Harry thought to himself as he watched the burly teenager celebrate. _Of course he would be the one to represent Durmstrang._

As the hustle and bustle slowly died down, the fire started growing in size yet again, before shooting out another piece of burning parchment. And just like before, Dumbledore stretched out his hand to catch it as it fell to the ground.

"The second Triwizard Champion, hailing from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, is… Fleur Delacour!"

A loud cheer went out from the girls gathered around Fleur, and Harry couldn't help but scoff at their reaction. So, the pretentious bitch had made it into the Tournament as well, huh? It was almost enough to make him regret not finding a way to slip his own name into the Goblet, just so he could have a shot at besting her. That would've probably been enough to knock her down a peg or two, at least.

Finally, the fire charged up once again, before shooting out the last name of the evening, the name of the Hogwarts Triwizard Champion. Everyone in the Great Hall held their collective breaths as Dumbledore caught the last piece of parchment in his hand, a weak smile flashing across his face as he read the name written on it.

"And the final Triwizard Champion, hailing from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is… Cedric Diggory!"

This time, the applause was through the roof. Every student from Hogwarts got up from their seats to give Cedric a standing ovation, and judging by the huge smile plastered on the handsome boys' face, he didn't exactly dislike the attention.

"That concludes the selection process of the Triwizard Champions. The First Task is scheduled to take place on November 24th, and so I hope to see all of you there, cheering on your favorite Champion. Well met, students, and off to bed!"

As the students in the Great Hall started getting ready to leave, Harry noticed something… weird… going on with the Goblet out of the corner of his eye. The fire crackling on top of it hadn't died down, as he had suspected it would. If anything, it seemed to have **increased** in size. And as he watched, the fire suddenly bulged with pressure, before shooting out yet another piece of parchment.

Everyone instantly went silent. Even the Headmaster seemed to be at a loss for words as they watched the parchment fall towards the ground in a steady decline. Nobody knew how to react. Had the Goblet misfired? Was there some sort of error with any of the previously chosen Champions?

The undisturbed silence continued as Dumbledore slowly approached the now cool piece of parchment, before bending over and picking it up. Harry observed the Headmaster's reaction as he read the name written on it, his eyes growing wide and confused behind his half-moon spectacles.

"...er", the Headmaster said.

The students all sent each other questioning stares, as nobody had been able to hear what the Headmaster had just said.

"Harry Potter," the Headmaster read, louder this time.

All the blood in Harry's veins immediately froze to ice as he heard his name, his mind going numb from sheer surprise. Every logical thought in his head turned to smoke, and an eerie sense of foreboding washed over him. On his right, he heard Hermione let out a gasp of pure shock.

_No… There's no way…_

Harry hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire. There was no way it should have been able to pick him. And yet, for some reason… it had.

Everyone's attention was fixed on him as he slowly opened his mouth to speak.

"Forgive me, Headmaster, but… there must be some sort of mistake here. I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire," he sputtered, his mind clouded by confusion and uncertainty.

_Why is this happening?_

_How is this happening?_

_I didn't put my name in the Goblet…_

_Has there been some sort of error? Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?_

Professor McGonagall came rushing over to Dumbledore's side, grabbing his arm with a shaky hand.

"Albus, there is no way we can allow him to participate! He is only a boy, for Merlin's sake!" she whispered ferociously, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Dumbledore slowly turned around to face her, his face an expressionless mask.

"Bartemius… What say you? Is there any way we can pull Harry Potter out of this tournament?" he asked, his gaze remaining locked on Professor McGonagall as he spoke. The black-robed man from the Ministry looked just as flabbergasted as everyone else, but slowly started shaking his head from side to side.

"N-No… The Goblet constitutes a binding magical contract. The boy must participate… It is the only option."

Dumbledore closed his eyes in defeat, suddenly looking every bit his age.

"So be it then. The fourth Triwizard Champion… will be Harry Potter."

The Great Hall instantly erupted with shouts and complaints.

"No fair!"

"Why does he get to participate?! He's too young!"

"Is it just because he's the Boy-Who-Lived?!"

"Redo the Selection Ceremony!"

"We don't want Potter to represent us!"

"What about Cedric?!"

" **SILENCE!** " Dumbledore thundered, his magically enhanced voice reverberating against the stone walls, muffling the complaints. "You all heard what Bartemius just said! The Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract that must be upheld, no matter what **. Harry Potter will represent this school alongside Cedric Diggory, and that decision is final!** "

A few weak protests sounded in response to Dumbledore's statement, but the majority wisely chose to keep their objections to themselves. Harry still felt the weight of their angry, accusing stares all the same, however.

_It wasn't supposed to go like this…_

_This wasn't supposed to happen..._

_Who put my name in the Goblet of Fire?_

_Was it Voldemort?_

_Is he back again?_

A maelstrom of questions pelted Harry's mind from every angle, but he couldn't afford to give in to their relentless barrage. Right now, he had to get out of here. He had to find Hermione and leave, as quickly as he could.

His admittance into the Triwizard Tournament changed everything. All of his plans for a quiet study year had to be scrapped, as his life was once again in danger. And this time, it was more serious than anything he had faced before.

There was only one thing he could do now. Only one thing that would help him survive the ordeals to come.

 _The ritual…_ he thought to himself, turning to send Hermione a hard stare filled with grim determination. _It happens_ _ **tonight**_.


End file.
